


Breathing Dust into the Flames

by UniversesVisiting



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Dancing, Drinking, F/F, F/M, Families of Choice, Female Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Male-Female Friendship, Smoking, Smoking in the Company of Minors, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 12:20:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8327590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniversesVisiting/pseuds/UniversesVisiting
Summary: Phryne is not prone to maudlin thoughts. But once a year she wants to rage and be miserable about her sister. 
Alone, preferably. 
It's a pity that her adopted family won't let her drown her sorrows by herself. 
A story about family, love, bad wine and worse cigarettes.





	1. A world away the clock stands still

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo. Nearly one year after I started this piece during NaNoWriMo 2015 I finally got around to editing the first part. Before I say anything else, there are two assumptions I make in this:  
> 1\. Phryne is older than her book counterpart (honestly I enjoy the thought of her being mid 30s, to early 40s much more than the version where she is like… 20+ or smth.) and  
> 2\. She and Mac, and by extension Janey, have grown up with each other  
> I know a lot of us already think of this as canon but I thought I'd throw it in here to avoid confusion later on.  
> I also want to say thank you to the people on Slack and especially to Sarahtoo who invited me there and helped me sort a few things out with this story. (I am also terribly sorry for talking to you all like, once, only to flounce off into the sunset afterwards. I am bad at communicating, that is literally the only excuse I have...)  
> As always, my thanks also go out to everyone who reads this and I am very thankful for constructive criticism.  
> Have fun, you all!

“I wish you would come and visit, Phryne. What do you have that horrible car for if you won’t use it?” 

Aunt Prudence’s voice, tinny from the phone connection, makes Phryne sigh heavily. 

“I am using it, Aunt Prudence. But I wouldn’t want to distract Guy and Isabella from their celebration” 

Her aunt snorts in disgust: “Oh, what rubbish! They’ve been celebrating for three days now. It won’t kill them to have a nice evening with you instead of getting drunk on MY champagne.” 

A noise from above draws Phryne’s eye’s upwards. Jane is walking down the stairs, a hair band between her teeth as she fights with the mop on her head. A smile overtakes Phryne’s face and she waves Jane over with a silent gesture before returning half of her attention towards the phone. 

“Aunt Prudence. I know you mean well, but I won’t be very good company tonight and I would hate to ruin everyone’s evening” Phryne twirls a finger and watches as Jane, still struggling with her hair, turns on the spot. 

Her dress, a knee-length, breezy affair in a lovely shade of powder-blue with a silver collar and seam, flares around her legs and takes it’s time to settle once Jane stops spinning. 

Phryne smiles and mouths: ‘Beautiful!’ at Jane who smiles as wide as she can while clenching she teeth around a hairband. Keeping her hand on the telephone Phryne reaches out with the other and runs it affectionately through Jane’s hair, helping her to smooth it. 

“Phryne I do not feel well, leaving you to yourself. On your birthday of all days”, Aunt Prudence sounds like she always does when Phryne’s moods prove to be more troublesome than she has anticipated, “It is not RIGHT” 

Sighing once more, Phryne gestures for Jane to take the phone out of her hand. Then she reaches out and carefully pulls Jane in until she stands between Phryne’s legs. Making sure that Jane can hold the telephone up to her ear Phryne pulls her daughter’s hair to the front and separates the strands into even portions. The repetitive motions soothe her frayed nerves more than any celebration with her extended family would be able to do. 

“Aunt Prudence, if I promise to come by sometime this week will that be a compromise that neither of us will lose any sleep over?” Carefully Phryne pulls Jane’s hair into a braid, strong but giving, eliminating both headaches and the possibility of the hair unraveling. 

She reaches over for the other side and for a moment Jane struggles with the turn, trying to keep the phone pressed to Phryne’s ear. Her aunt’s sigh reached her even through the small commotion: “Very well. I see that I will not convince you otherwise” 

Phryne lets out a silent breath of relieve and winds the second tie into a bow around Jane’s hair before checking for any stray hairs. 

“But you will come to visit at Friday, at the latest!”, Prudence grumbles and Phryne nods before answering. 

“Of course I will Aunt Prudence. Now”, she turns Jane back to face her and takes the telephone out of her hands, “I don’t want to keep you from the festivities. Drink a glass of champagne for me will you? And wish Guy and Isabella a wonderful night!” 

“I will do no such thing”, her aunt’s disdain is clear even over the phone as she makes no move to end the conversation, “I don’t know how those two can keep drinking. Between the two of them they must have emptied 5 bottles just yesterday evening! To say nothing of their guests!” 

Phryne’s mouth twitches into a smile and she takes care to avoid leaving a print on Jane’s face as she leans over and kissed her on the cheek. 

‘You look fantastic’ she mouths and sees with delight how her daughter grins and blushes under the praise. 

“Leave them their fun Aunt Prudence”, she tells her aunt and gestures towards the wardrobe and then to Jane mouthing ‘Coat?’ at her, “A few day’s more and they’ll have disappeared back towards America again. Leave them to it now and in barely a week you’ll have your peace and quiet returned to you” 

As she goes through the coats Jane shakes her head at every single one of them. Phryne gestures towards one of the flimsier ones she likes to wear as a jacket which will probably fit Jane as a short coat. 

“You won’t be the one that has to deal with them until then”, her aunt is stalling, trying to stay on the phone with her, Phryne is aware of that. She laughs into the phone, making it brighter and airier than she feels at the moment: 

“Go and enjoy the celebrations Aunt Prudence. If I will call you tomorrow and see how you survived the night, would that be acceptable?” 

There is a short silence on the other end during which Jane has thrown the jacket-come-coat on and is now turning in front of the mirror. Her aunt’s voice, when she speaks once more, is quiet but hard and filled with something Phryne does not want to hear: 

“Phryne I know how hard this day is for you.” 

Phryne’s hand tightens around the phone, temper flaring up at the pity in her aunt’s voice. 

“But child,” Aunt Prudence continues, unaware of the phone creaking Phryne’s hands, “You need to let it go already. This endless picking at old scabs is not healthy, Phryne” 

Taking care to keep her breathing even and regular Phryne gives Jane a thumbs-up. There is something hard gathering in her stomach and it makes anger leak into her voice as she answers. 

“I will come by either tomorrow or the day after that” she tells her aunt, her words not allowing any disagreement, “Now, I really must be off. Jane isn’t ready yet and I haven’t seen Dot down here yet either. I’ll see you soon, Aunt Prudence. Give the other’s my love” 

Hanging up Phryne gives herself a second to breathe out the anger that is clinging to her. 

She has promised herself years ago to not accept pity from anyone and Aunt Prudence will not make her question that. 

Looking up she catches Jane’s concerned gaze and forces herself to smile as she stands up and claps her hands: “Well let’s see”

________________________________________________________

The weather, as it turns out when they open the door to get a feel for the evening, is warm enough to eliminate the need for any coat but seeing as Jane can’t very well go out in just a dress they compromise on the lightest jacket Phryne possesses. 

Standing behind Jane as her daughter spins in a circle in front of the mirror Phryne can’t suppress the smile stealing across her lips. 

“Wonderful”, she pronounces and Jane grins at her in the mirror and fiddles with her collar some more before looking around: “Where did I leave-“ 

Phryne reaches behind herself and holds out Jane’s purse: “This?” 

Jane nods and sorts through it for a few seconds. When silence descends over the foyer Phryne takes a closer look at Jane and asks, once she is sure she is not intruding: “Nervous, love?” 

Startled Jane looks up. 

“No”, she says, too fast, “No why would I be?” 

Instead of pressing her Phryne stays where she is, relaxed against the side table, body open and patient. 

Squirming, Jane avoids her eyes and Phryne has to grin. 

“Darling we need to work on your lying skills. This is no way to convince somebody you are innocent” 

Exasperation chases away the embarrassment as Jane looks up again. 

“Phryne” she whines but Phryne raises a finger. 

“Ah, ah, ah. Just because you’re having a date does not mean you get to slack off, dear.” 

Immediately the embarrassment is back: “It’s not a… I mean-“ 

Clearly torn Jane dithers for a second before her frustration breaks free in a burst of words: “I don’t even know if it IS a date! We’re not even alone! Bert is coming with us and what does it mean when someone asks you out without knowing if they know that you think it’s a date?!” 

Phryne bites her lip to keep from laughing but can’t keep herself from saying: “I can ask Bert to sit two rows behind you two if that helps” 

Jane throws her arms up and stomps off towards the dining room before stopping in the middle of the foyer where she whirls around yet again and growls in frustration.

“I don’t know how Aunt Mac does it!”, she finally spits out, “I don’t know what to do!” 

And now Phryne has no problem to keep her face straight. There is a helpless fear in Jane’s tone that Phryne hates to hear. 

She holds out her arms and Jane hugs her without thought: “This is so much easier to do when I’m meeting boys” she mutters into Phryne’s chest, her hands clinging to her back. 

Carefully Phryne lets her hands run from Jane’s head to her shoulders. 

“You can still cancel the evening”, she ventures but Jane shakes her head without letting her go. 

“Alright” she murmurs, “How about this?” 

She pushes Jane back slightly, only so far that she can look her daughter in the face and frames it with her hands. 

“You trust Maggie, right?”, Jane nods and Phryne smiles, “And have you two ever spoken about each other with something other in mind than friendship?” 

Jane shrugs and twists Phryne’s dress between her fingers: “I don’t know. I mean... I mean I like her. And we hug and we hold hands sometimes and she did ask me if we wanted to go to the pictures” 

She looks up in despair: “But you and Aunt Mac do those things ALL THE TIME and you’re not in love with each other!” 

Phryne grins in spite of herself: “Darling, Mac and I do not care much for society’s conventions. And we are… different” 

Phryne does not have the faintest idea how to explain her relationship with Mac to Jane in the short time they have until her daughter’s date for the evening will arrive. It is a conversation better left for a time when both herself AND Mac are in attendance and they have an entire evening to go into the details. 

“And by the way”, she tells Jane who is still looking at her as if she has all the answers, “We’ve also known each other for longer than you have even been alive. Believe me, you and Maggie are different from me and Mac” 

Jane does not look convinced but she relents. This, Phryne thinks with a sigh, may not have been all that good of an idea. 

Jane’s face slides into a grimace and with the expression of one going to their own execution she wails: “But then how do I KNOW?” 

Phryne thinks for a moment and then asks: “Do you hold hands in public?” 

Jane opens her mouth, thinks and then says: “No?” as if she isn’t sure of it, “I don’t think so… No only when we are alone” 

“And the movie you’re watching?”, Phryne persisted. 

“Sally”, Jane muttered. 

Looking Jane directly in the eye Phryne cups her daughters face with her hands and tells her very seriously: “My dear, as a detective of considerable reputation and skill, I would conclude, from the evidence you have given me that Maggie did indeed ask you out on a date. The two of you are going alone”, Jane draws back enough to throw her an aggrieved look and Phryne amends, “well nearly alone. It’s in the evening, which is a rather unusual time for friends of your age to meet and combining all this with asking someone to go to the pictures is very nearly the universal equivalent of saying ‘I am romantically interested in you and want to spent time with you in a dark room so I can hold your hand in front of a lot of strangers without them noticing’” 

Burying her face in Phryne’s neck once more Jane blushes furiously. “Do you really think so?”, she mumbles, her voice muffled by the cloth she is speaking into. 

Once more Phryne pulls Jane back and looks her in the face, this time nothing but seriousness in her face: “I am absolutely certain, my dear. But if you are worried simply ask her. The two of you are friends and if she says no, it won’t be the end of the world. This does not have to be something terrible, love. Whether it’s a date or a night out with a friend, simply do what feels best” 

Jane stares at her, seconds ticking by until she nods and hugs Phryne once more. Sighing in relief Phryne closes her arms around her daughter and presses her close.

That is how Dot finds them when she comes down the stairs. 

Just as she is about to turn back up the stairs Phryne catches sight of her: “Dot! About time!” 

Keeping a hold of Jane she throws her companion a smile and Dot smiles back even though concern is written all across her face as she turns a concerned glance towards Jane. 

“Should I give you two some time Miss?” Jane gives one last mighty sniff and pulls away from Phryne. 

“No Dot it’s okay”, she answers for Phryne who watches her with eagle eyes before giving a careful nod to Dot that makes her smile in relief: “Alright, if you two are sure” 

Phryne takes one last look at Jane, letting her eyes wander over her daughter.   
“Okay?”, she asks and Jane takes a deep breath and nods determinedly: “Stay calm, ask her and make the best of it, right?” 

Phryne smiles: “Exactly. Don’t worry. It will be okay” 

Dot looks between the two of them curiously but the doorbell rings and she turns to open it before Jane stops her abruptly. A bit nonplussed she lets the girl wave her away, but instead of opening the door herself Jane looks like she wants to bolt yet again. 

Just as fast as Jane’s confidence has appeared it seems to have disappeared again as she looks around wildly. She grabs her purse, then smooths her hair out of her face while fiddling with her dress before she finally turns back to Phryne and nods, her cheeks now flushed and her eyes wide. 

Feeling downright gleeful Phryne stretches out her hand and opens the door with more flourish than strictly necessary. 

A girl, slightly older than Jane, stands on the front steps and her short, brown hair flies around her head in the evening breeze. Her cheeks, Phryne notes, are just as red as Jane’s and her dress (a gold-brown evening number that has most definitely been reduced in size by either a sister or a mother in order to fit the girl) is slightly crumpled on her right side, as if she has pressed it together in her fist only to release it again. 

Phryne smiles and makes sure to find Jane’s gaze as she turns her head for a moment, conveying as much encouragement as she can through her eyes alone. 

Maggie Ollep, she thinks, has most definitely asked her daughter for a date and if she hasn’t Phryne will eat Dot’s hat. 

“Maggie”, she says once her attention is once more firmly rooted on the girl, “How wonderful! And just in time! Jane has just finished getting ready” 

Maggie smiles, but she isn’t smiling at Phryne. 

“Hi”, she whispers, her voice as light as summer air and the red in her cheeks intensifies, “You look… good” 

Jane, herself rather preoccupied with staring at her friend and blushing up to the roots of her hair says: “Thank you. So do you” 

Phryne rolls her eyes, making sure the girls won’t see her and claps her hands, delighting in the startled twitch she earns from the girls: “Well you two, Bert should be here any minute now. Then you can get started” 

As if he has heard her Bert walks out of the dining room, wearing a dress shirt and slacks, and looking more uncomfortable than Phryne has ever seen him outside of a full suit. 

He is messing with his shirt cuffs, his fingers pulling desperately on the little buttons and when they finally give way he pushes the entire sleeve up as far as it will go. 

“Evening Miss Fisher. Dot. Miss Jane”, he says and looks at them while pulling at his collar. Catching sight of the girl at the door he gives her a rather pained smiled and says: “And Miss Maggie is here already. Seems that we can go then” 

Phryne smiles: “I really do appreciate it, Bert” she tells him and Bert waves her off, 

“No problem Miss. Could be worse than spending an evening at the pictures” he slaps his hands together and looks at the girls: “Now. We ready to go or do you ladies still need some more time?” 

Jane looks at Maggie and both of them shake their heads at the same time. 

“No Bert, we can go”, Jane turns to Phryne and hugs her once more. 

“Have fun dear”, Phryne murmurs into her ear as she hugs back before giving Jane free again. 

Together she and Maggie walk down the stairs, their heads bent together and their hands not quite touching. 

“I’ll make sure nothing happens Miss”, Bert tells her as he puts on his hat and pushes it out of his face so they can see each other, “We’ll be back once they’re done” 

Phryne nods: “Thank you Bert. This really means a lot to them.” 

Bert looks at her knowingly and follows her eyes towards the girls, “I would’ve spent the night with two lovebirds either way, what with Cec and Alice having a night out. I’d rather take the ones that make me feel like a chaperone ‘stead of the third wheel” 

Phryne laughs and she taps her brow with her fingers when Bert tips his hat to her. 

“Ev’nin’ Miss. Dot, have fun tonight”, he throws Dot, who is glowering at him, a grin and turns around and follows the girls from the house and into his cap. 

“Have fun you three”, Phryne calls after them. 

Dot, her face stuck in a thunderous frown, calls: “And bring them back in one piece Bert!” 

Bert waves at her until he and the girls disappear around the hedge. 

A second later Phryne hears the engine of the cab start. 

When she turns around Phryne comes face to face with a still glowering Dot: “Dot, what’s the matter?” 

Sighing Dot looks at her and knots her hands together in front of her dress: “Miss I do not feel good leaving you alone tonight. Are you sure you wouldn’t like it better if I stayed? It’s your birthday, after all” 

“So I have been reliably informed at least half a dozen times in the last four hours”, Phryne sighs and leans her back against the door, “Believe me Dot. What I need is some brandy, a quiet evening and a very early night” 

“I could stay and have that quiet evening with you?” Despite her tentativeness Dot looks ready to cancel her entire evening if it will make Phryne let her stay. 

An uncomfortable silence falls between them. Finally Dot squares her shoulders and inwardly Phryne groans, recognizing the look Dot dons whenever she gets ready to tell Phryne something she knows her friend does not want to hear: “Miss, this is not healthy, you staying alone all evening today” 

Phryne loses the fight with herself and rolls her eyes: “Yes. So Aunt Prudence keeps telling me” 

“Maybe Miss Stanley is right just this once?”, Dot hints. 

Phryne keeps quiet, a tilt to her head that, she hopes, makes clear just how little she thinks of that idea. Dot takes a deep breath: “Miss. We just… Miss, we worry. We all do” 

Her eyes search for Phryne’s gaze but finally settles on the space between her eyebrows. Dot feels bad for what she is about to bring up, but strange times demand strange methods. “Miss, pardon me for saying it. But would your sister not have wanted you to be with people you care for instead of alone?” 

Phryne closes her eyes. Suddenly the exhaustion she has been holding at bay all day returns with a vengeance. 

“Maybe”, she murmurs, letting her head loll back against the door with a quiet ‘thunk’, “But despite what Janey might have wanted, it is me who is here today. And I cannot pretend that I am having a good time tonight when I want to curl up in an armchair, pull a blanket over my head and think of my sister for one evening without having to put on a brave face.” 

Opening her eyes Phryne very nearly regrets her words. Dot looks gutted, her face brimming with sadness. Not pity, not from Dot. But instead there is pain, sharp and deep like a knife cut, that makes Phryne wince. 

For a second she thinks about letting Dot stay, about spending the evening lying splayed out across the chaise with her and telling her about Janey. Dot’s sadness is all for her though, all for Phryne. None of it is for Janey, because Dot has not known Janey. And Phryne does not need people to be sad for her. She’s had enough of that and tonight is not a night where she can bear any more of it. 

She wants someone who will feel grief and pain and anger for Janey, for the girl she has been and the life she was supposed to have had. And Dot, as much as they love each other, can’t be that person tonight. 

Dot is still watching her, worry carved into the fine corners of her face. A sudden knock makes the door behind Phryne vibrate. 

Dot jumps, her hands clenching into her dress in surprise. Phryne turns, away from Dot and towards the door and opens it. 

Hugh stands on the steps, his face frozen in an expression of nervous happiness.

Phryne smiles and nearly winces again when she sees Hugh’s face turn from confusion to concern as he looks first at her and then at Dot. 

“Ah… Is this a bad time?”, and then when they don’t answer him, “Dot? Miss Fisher? Is everything alight?” 

Phryne blows out a breath and forces herself to try for another smile, more convincing this time: “Of course, Hugh! You surprised us, we were discussing something but it can wait until you two have had your evening” 

She whirls around, lets her dress swirl around her, and hides her shaking hands in its folds: “Dot, I promise you. An evening of quiet is exactly what I need.” 

She reaches out a hand, a nearly invisible tremor everything that is left of the shaking. 

She forces herself to keep her hand outstretched, even when Dot does not take it immediately. Dot let’s her eyes wander from Phryne’s hand to her face and back and her face softens. 

She bypasses Phryne’s hand and hugs her, pulling them together in a hard embrace, “Alright, but promise me that we will talk about this?” 

There is something painful caught in Phryne’s throat and she has to clear it before she nods: “Yes, yes we will” 

Releasing her Dot takes a step back and pats at her own face, as if to make the blush that has taken it over disappear. They smile at each other. 

“You look amazing Dot have I told you that today?” Phryne asks, curling affection through her voice. Dot’s face becomes a shade darker and she mumbles something into her collar Phryne can’t hear. 

Phryne looks at her, consciously pushes the lingering headache away and takes in the mauve dress with lace at the collar and the grey cuffs that she knows Dot has sewn on herself. She peruses her friend for a moment before she snaps her fingers as an idea comes to her: “Wait just a second Dot!” 

Confused Dot and Hugh exchange looks but Dot nods and Phryne makes it a point to keep the smile on her face and her breathing even while she walks up the stairs in a fast jog: “Just a moment, dears. I have something for you Dot!” 

She barely rounds the first flight of stairs before she starts gulping air and has to set her hand against the wall for a second before she can breathe again. She grits her teeth and keeps walking, ignores the trembling of her legs. 

It is fine, she tells herself, it is fine. Everything is fine and if it isn’t fine then she will make it so. She has an entire evening to put herself back together, after all. 

She opens the door to the master bedroom. Her boudoir is flooded with evening light, warmth and color drowning out the shadows. Phryne does not linger. 

She crosses the floor and looks around on her vanity for several seconds before she reaches for one of her jewelry boxes. Careful she sifts through it and finally finds what she is searching for. 

The necklace weights next to nothing. It is light as feathers in her hands and she smiles in satisfaction before she closes the box again and walks back out of the door. 

From the top of the stairs she hears Dot’s voice: “Yes, thank you. I was not sure if… yes, I thought so too. I just wanted you to check if… Exactly. Thank you. Really. Thank you so much. Yes. Goodbye” 

She isn’t speaking to Hugh, Phryne realizes when she comes back down the stairs. 

Instead Dot is busy putting the phone back into its cradle. She looks up when Phryne appears above them. 

“Who did you call?”, Phryne asks curiously and Dot waves the question away with an embarrassed smile: “No one Miss, the phone rang, it was a potential client. They weren’t really sure if they needed you so I asked a few… questions and it turns out everything is fine after all” 

Phryne feels pride bloom inside her chest, sudden and harsh: “Very good Detective work Dot!”, she exclaims and Dot colors badly, an embarrassed, nearly guilty tilt to her head: “No Miss, it was nothing” 

“Oh nonsense, love!”, Phryne laughs and looks at Hugh, “Isn’t she amazing? I’m sure Hugh thinks so too!” 

Hugh himself is standing next to the door, blushing nearly as bad as Dot: “Ah, yes”, he mutters, “Yes Dot you are always… always very good” 

Phryne is silent for a second, waiting for something a little more enthusiastic, but shrugs when nothing comes forward. 

“Good enough I suppose”, she mutters when Dot starts blushing in earnest. 

Remembering the necklace in her hand she walks over towards Dot and smiles at her: “I must be getting old. I didn’t even hear the phone ring” 

Not that she would have been able to hear it, she thinks darkly while she unclasps the lock of the necklace, not with the near panic attack she’d had up there. 

Dot finally gets her blush under control and watches, first in confusion and then in gradual horror as Phryne opens the clasp of her pearl necklace: “Miss no!” she blurts out and holds up her hands, “Miss I cannot wear that!” 

Confused Phryne lets the jewelry sink. 

“You don’t like it?”, she asks, turning the pearls this way and that way, “I always thought they were rather nice. And they suit that dress so well! But if you don’t like them-“ 

“No, no it’s not that!”, Dot’s hands flutter like excited birds, “Miss what if something happens to them?” 

Laughing Phryne waves her off. 

“Oh Dot, who would take better care of them than you?”, she asks and reaches out her hands once more. 

Beseechingly she looks at Dot and her friend bites her lip and worries at it, looks at Hugh who shrugs in a helpless gesture and finally relents when Phryne refuses to let the topic go. 

“I promise I will take good care of them”, she tells Phryne solemnly as she leans forward slightly so Phryne can wind the necklace around her neck and close the clasp in the back. Straightening the jewelry Phryne smiles and she lets her hands linger over Dot’s arms: “They suit you wonderfully Dot! Far better than me!” 

Once more Dot colors and whispers: “No Miss, no” But Phryne also sees the small, delighted smile on her face. And when she takes her by the shoulders and turns her towards Hugh Phryne feels Dot relax and finally Dot seems to allows herself a real, wide and happy smile. 

Hugh opens and closes his mouth several times without a word coming out until he says: “You look… really, really beautiful Dot” only to blush painfully bright a second later. 

It hurts to see them so happy. 

But, Phryne decides as she swallows unseen, it is a good pain, sharp and harsh, bursting across her heart like too bright sunlight, reminding her that there is more to the world than weariness and grief. 

Dot turns around and once more Phryne stretches out a hand. This time Dot takes it and holds on. Together they turned back towards the door. 

Hugh, Phryne thinks with a suppressed smile, looks terribly nervous still, but stretches out his arm willingly enough when Dot steps over the threshold. 

Phryne steps back inside but Dot refuses to let go of her hand. 

Her heart aches in time with her pulse, but she puts it behind her, soldiers through it and instead of shaking Dot’s hand lose she puts more pressure into her grip. 

A second later Phryne feels an answering force from Dot. Then she opens her fingers and lets them slip through Dot’s grip, one after another until only two of their fingers are still connected. 

Phryne smiles, gives her fingers a firm tug and separates their hands. 

“Have fun”, she says and does her best not to show how much wetness there is in her voice, “Have a nice evening” 

Hugh looks from Dot to Phryne and back: “Miss Fisher” he begins, carefully, as if he wants to make sure he isn’t stepping on any potentially disastrous topics, “Miss Fisher is everything alright? Maybe Dot should stay if you are not feeling well-“ 

“Oh no!”, Phryne says, decisively, “Don’t you dare. I know for a fact that Jack made sure you’d be free this evening just so you could meet with Dot. You two will go out and have fun tonight and if I have to make you have it myself, I will. Don’t you dare come back until midnight!” 

Dot laughs. The worry isn’t gone from her eyes but it has taken a backseat in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood: “Come Hugh. You heard the Miss” 

Staring from one to the other Hugh sighs in a put upon fashion and nods: “Very well. Good night Miss Fisher” 

“Good night you two”, Phryne murmurs and watches as they tightened their arms between them and wander down the stairs towards the street. 

She stands there and lets the air play around her legs until she can’t hear their steps anymore, until their voices have faded from the wind. Then she turns back inside and closes the door behind herself. 

Standing inside the foyer Phryne lets out a shuddering exhale and allows the tremor’s to run through her hands as she pats at her face, much like Dot had done before. 

Finally she blows out a loud breath and lets her shoulders sag forward: “Well that could have gone better” 

She lets the door go and wanders towards the salon. 

Sinking into the chaise filled with cushions she shrugs off her slippers and reaches out for a glass of sherry. Grimacing she swallows it down in one go and lifts a hand towards her aching head, trying to alleviate the slow and steady pain. 

She lets her head sink down onto the heap of pillows and lets out another sigh. Even though she fought for her solitude so desperately just a minute ago she is questioning herself now. Is it really a good idea to surround herself with memories of Janey? This morning nothing seemed more desirable than a few hours of quiet solitude filled with nothing but her thoughts and her longing for her sister. 

But now that she has it, she wishes that she hadn’t sent everyone away just yet. Turning she leans over the space between couch and table and takes one of the bottles, uncorks it and fills her glass once more to the brim. 

Sitting up slightly, so she doesn’t spill anything, she throws the sherry back and winces yet again. 

Maybe, she thinks as she lies back down, maybe she should have gone with them. Taken Aunt Prudence up on her offer, or gone with Jane and Maggie instead of asking Bert to do it for her. 

Phryne isn’t one for solitude, hates hiding herself away and finds it physically painful to not live her life to the fullest every second of the day. She knows though, with the same certainty with which she wishes to have done something different, that she would hate the other way around just as much. 

Had she gone with one of the others, she knows, she would be sitting in the middle of what will now be a wonderful evening for them, and would have ruined it with her frustration and sadness and inability to let go on this one night of the year. 

Around Phryne the house is quiet, the occasional groan of the pipes and the silent creaking of the wooden beams the only thing disturbing the silence. 

Finally Phryne let’s herself go boneless. 

“Nothing to be done about it now”, she mutters and turns the empty glass in her hands, “Just the two of us for tonight then, mh?” 

As if on cue, the doorbell rings. 

Phryne freezes and then she groans and buries her head in the cushions before she swings her legs onto the ground. 

She sits up and puts the glass onto the table before pushing herself up. 

Through the window she sees that darkness is starting to fall outside, a gentle pattern of shadows falling over her garden. 

She throws a short look into the mirror and pulls at her hair so it looks less like she has just rolled out of bed before flicking open the locks. The door opens easily under her fingers and she pulls it open with rather less enthusiasm than normal. 

And blinks, rather thrown, when Elizabeth MacMillan, clad in a light dress shirt, slacks and a hat with a summer jacket thrown over her arm sails through the doorway and into the house without asking permission. 

Uncharacteristically, she is also carrying a linen bag with her, instead of her usual doctor’s bag. 

“So tell me, why is it that you’ve been running everyone out of the house since this morning and instead of phoning me, you decided to wallow in sadness alone?” 

Phryne, who is still standing at the door, finally closes it and turns just in time to see Mac take off her hat and jacket before putting both of them onto the wardrobe. 

Phryne shakes her head, and she cannot help herself, she smiles as she wanders after Mac who has seen her collection of bottles around the couch and is now busying herself with pulling even more bottles out of her bag. 

Phryne picks up one of them, to have something to do with her hands while she says: “Good evening to you too, Mac. I do not know who phoned you to tell you about it but I assure you, you needn’t have come” 

“Dot did”, Mac retorts, ignoring the rest of her statement, “She was worried you’d feel lonely and asked me to come over to check on you since you didn’t want her to stay. But to be honest she needn’t have called. I had already bought the wine and I would have come either way.” 

Finally Mac finishes and Phryne has to admit that she is vaguely impressed. She hadn’t expected that many bottles to fit into the bag. 

Mac stands and looks around: “Just one glass, huh?” 

Phryne shrugs and nods at the same time: “I was not expecting company, you see” she hints and Mac gives her a look that makes it clear just what her best friend thinks of that particular idea. 

“I’ll get one. Help yourself”, she gestures to the wine and walks off into the foyer and through the dining room, apparently in search of another glass. 

Slightly amused Phryne finally looks at the label she has been peeling off the bottle. She nearly drops it when she identifies the year and maker. Hurriedly she sets it down and looks at another and a third one. 

Identical labels, all of them. Behind her she hears Mac come back, the clinking of glass preceding her and Phryne turns around carefully, looking up at her friend: “Are they all from that particular year?” 

“Yes”, comes the cheerful reply, “That year was so bad, they cost barely anything. The Clerk asked me if I was really sure I wanted them.” 

She shrugs as she sets three glasses down on the table, two wine glasses and another sherry glass. Then she looks around and mutters: “Ah wait” before she pulls the bag up again and pulls two packs of cigarettes out of it. 

She drops them on the table and kicks the bag under the couch before she straightens and smiles at Phryne: “Bad wine, worse cigarettes and good company, what else could you want this evening?” 

Phryne smirks and puts the bottle down to look at the cigarettes. She laughs, surprise startling it out of her as she sees the label. 

“Where did you even get this? Do they really still make them?”, she asks wonderingly. 

Mac shrugs and sinks down onto the chaise before she takes one of the wine bottles and pulls the cork out with a screw: “Had to search a bit but yes, apparently. Even though” she pours two glasses and gives one to Phryne before putting the cork back in, “I refuse to believe they actually make money with them. I cannot imagine anyone would buy them voluntarily” 

Phryne takes a sip and shudders when the horrible taste hits her tongue. Despite the bitterness she can’t help but feels slightly more at ease than before, the familiar tang making it easier to lean down and sit down next to Mac. 

“ _We_ did”, she finally volunteers and takes another sip, all the while holding the cigarettes, “And we didn’t change the type for a long time” 

Mac rolls her eyes: “Well yes, but two dirt-poor girls from Collingwood who can’t pay for more don’t really count, do they?” 

“Maybe”, Phryne mutters, deliberately sets the glass down and shakes two cigarettes out of the pack. She reaches up and tugs an ashtray from one of the higher shelves behind her while Mac pats her slacks down and brings out a pack of matches. 

Phryne puts the first cigarette between her teeth and lights first the match and then the fag. She pulls the smoke into her lungs as greedy as she had done when she had still been a teenager and cigarettes, even bad ones, had been fiercely guarded and only shared with those closest to you. 

Now, she waves the other cigarette carelessly towards Mac who nods and makes a huffy noise when Phryne pushes it between her lips. 

“Be careful, with that” she complains around the stick, even as Phryne rolls her eyes. She breathes out a cloud of smoke before she holds up her own cigarette and lights the end of Mac’s with it. 

Mac, like Phryne, takes her time to pull the first cloud of nicotine into her lungs before letting the smoke escape from her mouth again. 

Sitting side by side they smoke their cigarettes down to stubs before one of them speaks once more. 

“I’m not good company tonight”, Phryne tells her friend, her eyes firmly fixed on the window in front of them. 

Mac just sighs and pulls her own glass closer to herself before she takes a gulp and shudders: “God, this really is awful isn’t it? It’s no wonder that this was the only wine we could afford back then” 

Phryne turns and looks at Mac who is now fiddling with the label Phryne had peeled loose. Finally Mac turns and lets out a defeated sigh when she sees Phryne’s face. 

“And you think I will be good company tonight?” she asks, her eyes as clear as the sky by day, “You think I will do anything different from you this evening, whether it’s here or in a bar or at my flat?” 

When Phryne keeps her silence Mac pulls a hand over her face and groans: “Listen. Phryne if you really want to be alone, tell me and I will leave”, she looks at Phryne and makes sure her friend nods before she continues, “But we have spent so many of these day’s together. And I would really like it better if we could get drunk together instead of at opposite ends of the city.” 

She takes another gulp of wine and says, with her face turned towards the floor: “I miss her too, Phryne.” 

And Phryne deflates, all the tension drains out of her as if it has never been there, leaving her miserable and boneless and leaning heavily against her oldest friend. 

Phryne has waited for this all day. For these exact words out of the mouth of someone who understands. Someone who has known Janey and mourns her and not the effect her death has on Phryne. 

She takes a gulp of her own wine and breathes out, feeling Mac, warm and full of strength sitting next to her, and sinks into her. 

Mac sets her glass down and pulls her in, her hands coming around her to hold her close, her fingers curving into Phryne’s hair and into her dress as she hugs her. 

Phryne turns her head and buries her face into Mac’s hair, smelling of sandalwood and violets, a perfume Phryne had commissioned her for her 36th birthday. 

“I miss her too”, Mac whispers again and Phryne feels it shudder through her entire body, feels the anger in it, the pain, “I miss her so much sometimes” 

Phryne brings her arms up and curls them around Mac, resting them around her friend’s waist as she turns her head so she can speak: “I want her back” 

And oh how she does, how much it hurts to say this, to know it will never happen. How her heart burns with it, with half-choked hopes and desperate fever-dreams of holding Janey’s hand one more time. 

Shame boils up inside her, hot and sharp, as it always does. How childish she must sound! But she aches for her sister, today more than ever, feels like she is missing half of her heart sometimes, like Janey had taken half of everything that had made Phryne whole with her when she had been murdered. 

She shudders, rests her head on Mac’s shoulder and whispers: “I want her here. I just want… I just-!”, 

Mac’s hands dance lightly across her hair, her fingers holding onto Phryne, keeping her grounded in the present. 

“Why doesn’t it get better?! Why can’t it go away already?!” 

How often had her mother told her that soon everything would hurt less? How often has Aunt Prudence told her that time heals all wounds? How often has she been told that she will stop feeling like she is trying to draw air underwater, like someone has stuffed cotton down her throat and told her to breathe through it? How long will it take until she really will stop feeling like there is something sitting on her chest, forcing all the air from her lungs every time she thinks of Janey? 

Mac’s hand draws circles on her back and Phryne feels it shaking, gently and nearly unnoticeable; doctor’s hands, steady even under pressure. 

They fall silent. Maybe, Phryne thinks, this would be easier if she could cry for her sister, cry for an hour and feel the anger and the pain and the terror leave her in one long stream of anguish. 

But Phryne has cried her last tears when they found Janey in the ground, when she had seen her sister for the first time in nearly 30 years and realized that she was well and truly gone. 

There is nothing left to cry with, she thinks, and curls into Mac further, drawing her legs up onto the chaise. 

They sit and cling to one another and watch as the sun outside sinks beneath the horizon and disappears. Shadows fill the garden in front of the window and Phryne tries to think of nothing. 

Finally, when the street lights begin to flicker to life Mac sighs deeply and Phryne follows suit. 

“Miserable pack we are”, Mac mutters and reaches out for their glasses, “She’d be ashamed of us. Two old, sad sacks sitting around doing nothing but sniffling on each other” 

Phryne snorts and takes her glass: “You think so?” She asks wistfully even as she takes another sip of the wine and holds out her hand for another cigarette. 

“You don’t?”, Mac asks and turns her head sideways to look at her. 

Phryne weighs her head from one side to the other and finally shakes her head in the negative.

“Maybe”, she allows, “But wouldn’t she have thought it alright for us to act as we feel?” 

Mac seems to barely catch herself before the laugh breaks free. 

“You remember her far more fondly than I do”, she says as she reaches for a cigarette and shakes one of them into her own fingers before throwing the pack into Phryne’s open hands.

“But then”, she amends, “Maybe she would have minded. Maybe not. Who knows what she would have done” 

Phryne takes one for herself and curls into Mac’s shoulder again where she waits until Mac has lit a match and pushes the stick out with her lips so Mac lights hers too. 

“Watch it with the hair”, Mac complains mildly as Phryne moves the stick from one side of her lips to the other without using her hands. Phryne draws the smoke in and keeps it trapped in her lungs for several seconds before exhaling in one long, luxurious breath even as Mac continuous her complaint: “I can’t afford a wig. And they only make hideous ones for red hair anyway.” 

“Don’t worry I’ll buy you a pretty one”, Phryne assures her loftily and nuzzles into Mac hair, taking care to keep the fiery ash on the end away from her friends hair. 

She twirls it between her fingers and pushes a bit of ash into the ashtray and while she looks out into the darkness: “Do you think she would have minded?” 

Mac turns her head and looks at her, the question clear in her face. 

“Staying home instead of celebrating”, Phryne clarifies and she wants to look away but forces herself to watch Mac’s face shift, “Would she have minded?” 

Mac’s lips relax into a smile, muscle by muscle and it sets something loose in Phryne. 

“You knew her longer than me”, Mac mumbles and reaches out her hand to wrap it around Phryne’s own, “You know damn well she wouldn’t have minded as long as you were feeling alright while doing it and if you decided to go and become a nun” 

A grin steals over Phryne face as she imagines Janey’s face, hearing the news that her older sister was going to become a nun. 

_(There would have been howling laughter, so loud their mother would have scolded her for it, followed by a sheepish apology littered with even more laughter. Prodding and teasing and disbelief and in the end Janey would have sat her down, as if she had been the older sister and said:_

_“Do it, if you thinks it’s gonna help. If you’re happy then it’s good.”_

_And then she’d have leaned over and whispered: “I’ll bake you a cake with a file in it if you wanna break out, too, I promise!”)_

“No, I suppose you’re right”, Phryne whispers, hoarseness tearing at her throat, “She wouldn’t have given a damn” 

Mac holds out her glass and she and Phryne toast. 

“To Janey?”, Phryne asks and Mac nods and whispers, “Yeah. To Janey” 

They drink and their cigarettes smoke, and for the first time that day, Phryne feels the warmth steal back into her body.  



	2. And yet the hours run for us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the impromptu family gathering gains several participants.

It has barely gone dark but already staying out in the wind is getting uncomfortable. 

But Jack is stalling even if he is not proud of it. Since when does he dawdle like this, he asks himself while he pulls uncomfortably at the buttons of his coat. Not that the answer to that question is any kind of mystery. He has felt off balance since Miss Phryne Fisher has stolen into his life and brought all kinds of madness with her. 

And now he stands on the steps of her home, like a thief that has come in the night to make off with the jewellery - never mind that he plans to bring her something instead of taking it and is quite determined to never touch any of Miss Fisher’s quite adventurous jewellery. 

When the sound of a door slamming from down the street startles him out of his thoughts he gives himself a push. Really what is he expecting? The woman does not bite, and she will surely not rip his head off just because he decides to visit her on her birthday like a good friend should. 

It does not stop him from wiping his hands on his trousers for a second before he reaches up and rings the bell. 

For a second there is silence and it is only then that Jack realises that the jumble of voices and noise that normally encompasses the Wardlow is notably absent tonight. A horrible thought forms before Jack can stop it: What if she isn’t at home? What if she has gone out? Who wouldn’t, if they were a lady of Miss Fisher’s standing and it was their birthday? And most importantly why had he not realised sooner that the chance of finding Miss Fisher at her residence during her birthday would be more than slim? 

It takes barely 10 seconds for the door to open but in those few moments Jacks manages to convince himself that this has been a terrible idea and is quite ready to turn around and never speak of it again. 

Despite the fact that it probably should not surprise him he cannot help but blink in consternation for a moment when the person opening the door for him is not Mister Butler or the lady of the house herself but rather Doctor MacMillan, clad in a white shirt, open at the collar and with rolled up sleeves and black slacks. 

He manages to catch himself and realizes rather quickly that the doctor’s presence is not a surprise at all. He nods at her while his heart stops pounding and he says truthfully: “Something told me you would be here” 

He congratulates himself silently when none of his nervousness shows in his voice. The doctor herself does not look surprised to see him either. 

“I wasn’t sure you would turn up” she tells him with a small smile. But instead of letting him inside she turns around and calls into the house: “Phryne! The Inspector is here!” 

It’s a question, Jack realizes and frowns. A query, whether to let him in or not. 

That Miss Fisher, whose house is always open to people, no matter the time or season, wants to know who it is at the door before letting someone in, is highly unusual. 

Silence comes from the inside of the house but before Jack can start feeling uncomfortable Phryne Fisher herself rounds the door and waves him in: “Come on in. Mac honestly, don’t let the man stands there!” 

Dr MacMillan lifts her hands in surrender and makes room for Jack when he walks through the door. 

“No matter what one does, it’s always the wrong choice with you, isn’t it?”, she grumbles and Phryne makes a face at her. 

The house smells like smoke, Jack notices, as he stands in the middle of the foyer and tries to struggle out of his coat while keeping a hold of the parcel in his hands. 

Dr MacMillan watches him flounder for a second before she sighs and takes the packet out of his hands. 

Grateful, Jack divests himself of coat and hat and then takes it back. Phryne, who has closed the door and pulled the locks back into place, turns and she and Jack follow Mac into the salon. 

When he see the bottles and cigarettes and the glasses on the table Jack feels a hot flush steal over his face. Heated embarrassment floods him. 

“I did not mean to intrude”, he says but Phryne only waves his apology away, as she is known to do. 

“Oh don’t worry Inspector. You aren’t the first one tonight!” She throws the Doctor a mock-glare and the Doctor’s only reply is a gesture that Jack has never seen done by a lady before and hastens to forget again. 

“Can I offer you something?”, Phryne asks and makes a gesture towards the alcohol on the floor: “We have some truly atrocious wine and rather good sherry. I can most likely organise some whiskey if you wanted some” 

Jack, feeling adventurous and rather curious, picks up the half full bottle of wine and gestures with it: “I’ll take some wine, thank you” 

Phryne lifts her brows but mutters: “Well if you’re sure” She turns around but Dr MacMillan waves her off. 

“Stay, I’ll get it. See if there is some crackers left, too”, muttering, the Doctor disappears into the dining room. 

Jack looks around and asks, once more: “Are you sure I am not intruding. I wouldn’t want to disturb a celebration just between the two of you” 

Phryne sits down on the chaise and waves towards the armchair next to it for Jack to make himself at home in. 

“Don’t worry Jack. Mac and I have been reminiscing, nothing more” She shrugs and Jack nods half-heartedly, all the while feeling like he is missing a part of the picture. 

Phryne is quiet for a worrying amount of time and only when she hears Doctor MacMillan come back from the kitchen does she seem to come back from where her thoughts have led her. 

“But, no matter Mac’s tendency to come over whenever she is not invited”, the doctor takes a swipe at Phryne’s head and Phryne absentmindedly dodges it while she keeps talking, “What brings _you_ here today, Jack Robinson?” 

Jack takes the glass Doctor MacMillan pushes into his hand and watches as she takes the bottle from him and fills it.  
“Trying to wish you a happy birthday, Miss Fisher. I hear that is what friends do” 

When the Doctor stops filling his glass with barely a mouthful in it he looks up at her in confusion and she motions for him to take a sip. He does so and immediately regrets it. It tastes acrid, like someone has mixed an unripe lemon and floor cleaner with each other and topped the result off with dishwater. 

Jack understands why Phryne has called is atrocious when she had listed it. What he does not understand is what this swill is doing in Miss Fisher’s house, when half an hour ago Jack would have sworn up and down and sideways that the woman has never served anything less than the best to her guests. 

Coughing Jack bends over and he could swear his ears are trying to tear up before he gets himself under control. When he looks back up Miss Fisher has a bottle of sherry and another glass in her hands which she pushes at him before she takes the wine glass out of his hands. 

“Sherry instead, Detective?” she asks with a smile that does little to hide her amusement. Jack nods and takes a swing from the alcohol, relaxing when the familiar gentle burn of the sherry touches his throat. He shakes himself, a quiet shiver of disgust racing up his spine. When he sees Phryne suppress a grin he grumbles but before he can say something she has tipped the glass back and drained the rest of his wine in one go. 

He nearly chokes on his own saliva. “How in the world can you drink that?”, he asks, aghast. She doesn’t move a muscle, does not even grimace. 

“Practice, Inspector”, she tells him and reaches for the bottle, “And a lot of sentimental value” Pouring bother herself and then a smirking Doctor Mac more from the wine she sets the now empty bottle back down and lifts her glass. “To good taste?”, she asks and Jack rolls his eyes but toast with them, ignoring the Doctor’s laughter as he swallows another mouthful of the (truly excellent) sherry. 

He watches as the women sip the wine like it is utterly normal for their drinks to taste like bleach and dirt and shakes his head once more. 

Doctor MacMillan, once she has set her glass down again, sets her eyes on him and he feels apprehensive when she smiles. Lifting the cigarettes from the table she shakes them at him. 

“Maybe we can tempt you with a cigarette instead, Inspector?”, Doctor MacMillan asks and Jack does not need Phryne’s exasperated “Mac!” to suspect that she is trying to make him try something that is just as atrocious as the wine had been. 

But when he catches sight of the cigarette label he has to laugh: “Oh god, they still make these?” He settles his glass on the table and he reaches for the pack, ignoring the Doctor’s rather nonplussed expression. 

Both she and Phryne look at him in surprise and he waves the pack at them and shakes three cigarettes out when they nod. “We used to smoke those in the army”, he tells them and looks around on the table for the matches. Phryne finds them first and she lights first Jack’s, then Mac’s and then her own cigarette with it. 

They fall into silence, the sound of breath and smoke being expelled from their lungs the only sound for a few minutes. It’s strange, Jack muses as he feels the smoke hit his lungs, that it can feel so comfortable to sit here with the women and simply be, the quiet around them like a quilt thrown over his shoulders to keep him warm and cozy. 

“Told you more people than us smoked them”, Phryne says suddenly, as if in answer to an unmentioned statement, “They’re not that bad” 

The Doctor rolls her eyes and pushes Phryne with her shoulders while she pulls her legs up on the chaise: “Your mouth must be going numb from all the wine already, if you can say that with a straight face” she mumbles and Jack laughs as Phryne sticks out her tongue. 

“I have to agree with the Doctor, Miss Fisher. They are horrible” Phryne turns a look of mock outrage at him. 

“You traitor!”, she calls out, “Why would you be smoking them if you didn’t like them?” 

He grins unrepentantly: “As you said”, he tells her, and lifts the cigarette to flick a bit of ash off the tip, “Sentimental value” 

Phryne looks at him and the fake outrage on her face slides into a quiet contemplation. Once again Jack has the feeling as if he only understands half of what is going on but before he can ask Phryne’s face has cleared and she laughs once more. Mac, who has also watched Phryne, now turns to look at him and nods at him solemnly before she breaks out into a laugh. 

“I think, inspector, if you are already teaming up with me against Phryne, you should call me Mac.” She tells him, and it comes completely out of the blue. 

Surprised, he raises an eyebrow at her, but nods, slowly. “Very well. In that case, I think you know my name. Miss Fisher, is very fond of repeating it, after all” 

Phryne huffs and shakes an admonishing finger at them while she leans over to flick her own cigarette: “You two are incorrigible” she tells them and Mac throws her a look as dry as the outback. 

“Good evening, Miss Pot, we are Mr and Mrs Kettle” she tells her with a completely straight face and makes Phryne choke on the smoke she is breathing out. 

Jack, who has managed to refrain from coughing has to grin as he watches how Phryne throws them both another glare and reaches over to pat her on the back carefully: “Some wine, Miss Fisher?” he offers her cheerfully and catches The Doc- _Mac’s_ gaze and watches as she tries and fails to hold back her laughter. 

“Very funny, you two”, Phryne gripes and reaches out for her glass, “You are hilarious.” 

“Yes I think so too”, Mac tells her seriously and this time it is Phryne that makes the gesture. 

It isn’t long however until Miss Fisher has to stop her pretence and joins them in their laughter: “Alright you two, did you have enough fun at my expense yet?” The coughing has given her voice a hoarse edge and Jack shivers in surprise when she speaks. 

Mac, filling Phryne’s glass and her own yet again shrugs with aplomb: “I don’t know, but I am sure if Jack and I put out backs into it we will find some more things to laugh at you about” 

Jack, not one to waste an opportunity like that, reaches over with his glass and they toast while Phryne shakes her head ruefully. 

“I understand why you would like to pay me back, Jack”, she tells him with a wicked grin, “I do admit I have an awful habit of teasing you. But Mac” and now she turns towards her friend in mock despair which Mac responds to with a look of complete innocence that Jack wouldn’t buy even if he did not know her, “What have I done to you that you are joining up with him?” 

There is no hesitation, not even a moment of contemplation before Mac holds up her hand and starts ticking off one finger after the other, as if she has been waiting for the question: “That time with your mother’s perfume, the cat you wanted, the apple tree-” 

“Elizabeth MacMillan!”, Phryne laughs, outrage written into every inch of her face, “That one was YOUR idea” 

“Yes I know”, Mac volleys back just as fast, “How could I forget? You made very sure to explain that to your father when he caught us, didn’t you?” 

Phryne snorts: “As if you didn’t rat me out about the paper wall” 

But Mac is already continuing her list: “That time you made me eat soap-” 

And finally Jack manages to rouse himself out of the stupor that has fallen over him that is largely comprised of horror-filled amusement and holds up his hands: “I feel we are veering into dangerous territory here” 

Mac looked surprised and then slightly embarrassed, seemingly realising that she and Phryne are not the only people in the room. “You haven’t heard that bit about me eating soap, Inspector”, she tells him and Jack does his best to take a nonchalant sip of his sherry. 

“Hear what?”, he asks and Mac nods satisfied and drains her glass of its last sip of wine. Phryne is pouting, her lips stretched out in a move that should NOT be as appealing to Jack as it is. 

“Spoilsports” She follows Mac’s example and when she is done and Mac has reached for the next bottle she turns her entire body towards Jack, focusing on him in a sudden move that makes him vaguely nervous. 

“Well Jack. Now that we are all sufficiently settled in, would you like to tell me what you keep in that parcel you have brought with you?” 

Jack nearly chokes on his sherry when he realises that he still has her present in his hands. “Of course”, her hurries to say and stretches the packet out towards her. 

Eagerly Phryne takes it and makes room on the table by pushing at the glasses and bottles and cigarettes until she has enough space to spread out the rectangular packet on the wood. 

“What is it Jack?”, she asks him even as she tears at the wrapping paper and pushes the bands away. 

Jack snorts from where he has rescued his own glass and the other two sherry glasses from the table: “You are a second away from seeing it. I’m not going to spoil it now.” 

Phryne blows air out between her puckered lips but she brightens when the paper finally falls away. She reached inside and pulled out a disk record. “Music, Jack?” she asks, delight clear in her voice as she turns the package and looks at it from the other side, “And such wonderful music too!” 

There’s a gentle heat growing in Jack’s gut at her words that only grows warmer when Mac sits back down next to Phryne and makes a grabbing gesture towards the record until Phryne reaches over and lets her read it. 

“My! Inspector, you have good taste, if I may say so!” Jack drowns his pleased smile in his sherry and makes an awkward gesture that is stuck somewhere between a nod and a shrug. 

“I thought you would like it”, he tells Phryne and the smile she gives him makes him feel like he has just missed a step on the stairs. 

“Thank you Jack”, she says, clear and truthful and genuine, and Jack gives back a smile of his own which he hopes is not quite as befuddled as it feels on his face. 

Smiling down on the record again Phryne’s smile becomes bittersweet when she feathers her fingers over the list of song titles. “My parents used to have one of those songs on a record of their own”, she tells them and her voice, just as loud as it had been a second ago suddenly seems quieter, more hushed than it had been before, “We used to listen to it on the holidays. Aunt Prudence had bought a player for us and we had such fun with it” 

Her face set in remembrance turns sour with her next words: “Until father ruined the gramophone, that is” 

It is unsettling, Jack thinks, how easily he is back to feeling like he has stumbled into a situation he has no place in. He wants to reach out and turn Phryne’s face towards him. Wants to see her eyes and ask her what it is that makes her so sad, wants to know the reason why she is sitting in her home, drinking bad wine in the company of only her closest friend when she should be out celebrating. This is not Phryne Fisher that he knows, this is not the woman he spends so much time with. He has seen this side of her before, he reminds himself, but the last time had been when they had sat in her kitchen and held hands. And as far as he knows this day has no connotation that would make her mood turn this dark, make her this determined to avoid company. He thinks of the silence that permeates the very air around them, about the normally lively house lying dark and quiet, free of voices and people. 

Phryne is still gazing at the record, her fingers tracing paths through the grooves. Mac, her hand next to Phryne’s on the record, is studying her friend’s face Both of them seem absorbed with their object of scrutiny and once more Jack feels like an intruder. 

“We used to dance to this”, Phryne murmurs her eyes far away and suddenly something in Jack’s mind snaps into focus. He sees a ribbon trailing through fingers, sees a champagne glass sparkling in the candle light, hears the heart wrenching sobs of a woman standing over a grave. He sees and suddenly, he feels like he understands. 

Before he can make a move however, Phryne is on her feet again, all sadness cleared from her face like dew melting from a leave: “Why don’t I get something to open this and you two clear the room so we can dance?” It is not a question, not really and Jack feels vaguely off kilter when she sails out of the room, the record in her hands. 

“Dancing?”, he asks Mac, bewildered, thrown with the sudden change of topic, the unexpected change in attitude. 

Mac, who stares after her friend, a look of deep concentration on her face turns towards him in surprise. The surprise only lasts for a few moments though. A second later she summons a smile for him, stands and begins to gather up the bottles from the floor around the table: 

“You brought her music, Jack. What exactly did you expect, if not for her to ask you to dance to it?” 

Feeling very nearly frazzled, it takes Jack several moments to move and start pushing the furniture towards the walls. 

“Maybe it wasn’t that good of an idea after all”, he mumbles and only hears Mac laughing at him from across the room. 

Even while he keeps his hands busy Jack’s thoughts keep returning to the expression on Phryne’s face when she had left and to his own tentative conclusion. Finally he turns towards Mac, wondering if she may be able to shed light on his conundrum. 

“What…”, Jack begins, his voice pitched low so Phryne won’t hear him, “Why… why is she so sad?” 

Mac, who is still busy with the glasses and the clearing of the table, keeps quiet for a moment but when Jack won’t back off she turns, straightens and looks him in the face. The looks she gives him is neither chastising nor angry but intensely serious, all traces of her earlier amusement wiped away as if they had never existed. 

“It’s really not my place to tell you, Inspector. If you want to know ask-“ 

“Me”, Phryne says and Jack and Mac both turn towards the door. 

Phryne has the record in her hands, her fingers wrapped tightly around the paper: 

“Ask me, Jack” 

Jack turns and swallows, the feeling of having stepped over some kind of invisible line rising up from his gut. From the corner of his eye he sees the Doctor throw Phryne a look of concern, a short movement of her head that Phryne answer with a barely perceptible shake of hers. 

Looking reluctant Mac nods and turns back towards the table, giving them as much privacy as she can in the close quarters they are in. 

“If I”, Jack begins, stops and starts again, “I did not mean to interrupt anything. Especially if it is something you would wish to be alone for. I… ” Helpless he lifts his hands and shrugs, “You seem sad? One does not see you like this often.” 

He doesn’t know how to voice his suspicion as to the reason of her mood. If he is wrong he would not wish to stir up unwanted memories for her. 

Phryne looks at him and after a few endless seconds she sighs, walks over towards the gramophone and sets the disk on the needle. Then she begins to speak. 

“Do you remember what we did last year on my birthday?”, she asks and Jack nods, now sure that he has indeed been right in his suspicions. How could he forget that night, after all. It had been etched into his brain forever, the smoke of the cigarettes, the twirling of Phryne’s dress, Dot and Hugh smiling at each other over their glasses, Mac and Bert and Cec taking turns to dance with Jane. Laughter and light and love running high in everyone’s blood, blotting out the misery that the day had brought with itself. 

Phryne’s hands fiddle with the record and behind them Jack hears Mac stop moving as she runs out of things to push towards the walls. 

“Last year”, Phryne says finally when she has collected herself, “Last year was something beautiful. And it felt right. But sometimes Jack, sometimes the things one needs change” She makes a move with her hand, aborted as if she is reaching for something and stops herself from it at the last second. 

And Jack thinks about the silence that fills his flat, something that had once choked him, the absence of another person that had once made it hard for him to feel at home when he returned from work. An atmosphere that now feels like home and makes him feel whole and welcome instead of lonely. 

And Jack understands and he can only nod when Phryne turns to look at him, her face so very guarded, so very careful, as if she isn’t she that he will comprehend. Her eyes search his face and she seems to find something in it because she relaxes, a minimal slump of her shoulders, a tension leaving her spine, dripping out of her stance second by second. They look at each other for several moments, long and longer still in Jack’s mind and Jack feels like he is in the middle of a storm, safe within it’s eye but seeing the turmoil it is creating on the outside. Then Phryne turns away and lifts the needle of the gramophone once more. 

“Now”, she says and the first sounds of static fill the room, “What do we dance to first?” 

Behind them something snaps loudly and both Jack and Phryne turn. Mac stands above the chaise that is pushed against the book case her hands on hips and a look on her face that makes the chaise personally responsible for whatever grievances she has with it. 

“Your furniture is a menace Phryne”, she informs them and turns towards them with the air of one who has suffered and is now searching for someone to complain to. 

“You should get some with less edges on them”, she proclaims and picks her wine glass from the mantle of the fireplace, “I’ll be black and blue come morning” 

“Oh no, you poor dear! Should I kiss it better?”, Phryne asks over her shoulder and Jack is relieved to see the last traces of sadness melt away as she makes fun of Mac. 

“Don’t you dare!”, the doctor counters and edges away as if to flee, “You’re just going bite or do something else to make it worse” 

“Excuse you, Elizabeth MacMillan”, Phryne exclaims in affront, “I have an exceptional bedside manner, has no one told you?” 

Jack coughs reflexively and Phryne gives him a smirk even while Doctor MacMillan throws him a mildly exasperated glare. 

“Cut it out you two”, she tells them (the hypocrite!) and it is at that moment that the music finally sets in. 

A slow, swinging rhythm comes from the player and Phryne claps her hands in delight. 

“So? Who will give me the honour of the first dance?”, she asks them, her voice only slightly louder than the voice of the singer that croons something about candlelight. 

A jolt runs through Jack and he flounders, looks around, but Mac has already sat back down on the chaise, her legs up on the pillows as she gestures with the hand that is free of a glass. 

“Go on Jack. I’m going to finish this before I go anywhere near Phryne’s two left feet” 

“I do _not_ have two left feet. You know very well that I am a very good dancer you fiend!”, Phryne complains and Mac, with her face turned away from Phryne so only Jack can see it, mimes a moving mouth with her hands and nods patronizingly in Phryne’s direction. 

“Of course you are, love” 

Harrumphing Phryne grasps for Jack’s hands and says: “Come on Jack, let’s show her that we are BOTH very capable dancers” 

Not feeling particularly eager to make a fool of himself Jack still hastens to obey the woman and falls into starting position. 

Smiling, Phryne pulls his hands into her own and leans slightly into his hand on her waist. 

“Very nice stance Inspector”, she tells him, her voice now slightly above a murmur. 

They move, Jack leading, his feet somehow steady even while he feels like he is shaking in his boots. A few moments they dance and Jack realizes, while they turn in small circles to keep from bumping into the furniture, that it would be wrong to say that one of them truly leads. It is as if Phryne does not need his hand to tell her where he will move. Instead it seems to him she knows instinctively where they will step and goes with it. 

They move in sync, twirling a waltz across the room in lazy spins, their feet sure around each other, an ease in the movements that is as unfamiliar as it is thirlling. 

Phryne leans up slightly and even that, to Jack, seems completely natural, fitting their dance steps. 

“I see your dancing has not suffered since the last time we had the honour”, she tells him and her tone is only half in jest. 

“Neither has your's, Miss Fisher”, he gives back, and does his utmost to not let through how his heart is beating wildly out of his chest. It is embarrassing, how easy it is for her to make him lose his head, but his feet are still sure, still step easy and in tune with her as if they had been meant to be like this, the both of them beside each other, in this strange kind of harmony. 

The song winds to a close, sooner than Jack wishes and they spin a few more circles on the spot, their eyes locked and their fingers woven into the other’s as surely as if they had been meant to be like this. 

The slow curl of her lips is something Jack is sure he will never be tired of, something he will forever see as purely Phryne, encompassing all of her in a simple gesture of her mouth. 

“We should do this more often”, Phryne tells him, her voice warm and rich and Jack feels all of a sudden, like he understands the singer’s sighing about women that are like candlelight and about warmth in the look of an eye. 

When another voice rings through the room he cannot help but startle badly. 

“You are right”, Mac voices from the side once the singer has crooned out the last few notes, “I am feeling sufficiently chastised now, I assure you. Clearly you are both _magnificent_ dancers. Why” and her voice takes on a truly fiendish quality, “You know where to step even when you are not looking where you are supposed to be looking. If that is not talent, I do not know what is” 

He does not know whether it is coincidence or the doctor’s comment but true to form it is at that moment that Jack loses his step and nearly topples both himself and Phryne into the fireplace. 

His face heats and he wants to sink into the floor when Mac offers him only a dry look. Phryne’s hand on his back, stroking up and down his arm only makes up partially for the embarrassment. 

“I think so too”, Phryne croons and her hand lingering on Jack’s arm does not seem to be his own wistful imagination, “Clearly you need to see for yourself” 

With that she strokes one last time down his arm and twirls out of his arms and towards the couch where she pulls a rather nonplussed looking Mac up from her seat. 

“Well get on with it!”, she tells them as she pushes her best friend towards Jack. It really is very frustrating, Jack thinks, how easy Miss Fisher overthrows his expectations. Left standing, his arms still half raised, Jack pulls them back down and tries to look like he has not been badly caught off guard. 

Mac meanwhile is trying to reason with her friend. 

“Phryne”, she tells her seriously, “Phryne I haven’t danced with a man for more than 20 years. I really _really_ do not need Jack to know how very bad I am at this” 

Phryne snorts and pushes her forward. 

“So you lead”, she tells her, “I know from first-hand experience that you are _very_ good at that” and now she has her right next to Jack who is unsure whether or not this is a good idea. He is, however, curious if Mac can actually back her barbs up. 

“And besides”, Phryne continues over Mac’s spluttered protests, “I also know from first-hand experience that you are not nearlyas bad at being led as you pretend to be. Now go and dance, and don’t trample on Jack’s feet on purpose please” 

Mac, obviously aware that arguing with Phryne will get her nowhere turns to Jack instead in search of support. 

Jack however feels playful enough, and sufficiently needled by her remarks earlier, to stretch his arms out and say, his face not betraying his amusement: “You will have to excuse me if I flounder at this. I confess I have never danced this position before but as they say, once is always the first time, right?” 

Mac gapes at him, turns to Phryne, turns back again, realizes that she is beaten and succumbs with a sigh, long and drawn out. 

“Fine”, she grumbles and for a second she and Jack stand in front of each other, each trying and failing to find a position that will not look ridiculous with their height difference. 

Finally Mac sighs and lets her hand curve around Jack’s waist and wraps their hands around each other. 

Phryne, for her part, has drifted off towards the chaise and has thrown her legs on it, stretched out along its length. Her hand is wrapped around the wine glass she has taken out of Mac’s hand and she is draining it of its last drops while watching them like the cat that had gotten into the pantry. 

Jack, for his part, settles his own hand on Doctor MacMillan’s shoulder, the movement more unusual than uncomfortable. He tests his reach. Their height really isn’t ideal, what with the doctor being nearly a head smaller than himself, but nonetheless it is not nearly as strange as he had expected. 

He looks up from his feet, mentally calculating how to step in this constellation and gives Mac his most charming smile: “Well Doctor?” 

Mac rolls her eyes at him and her hand exerts pressure on his waist when the music starts in a swift ¾ tact. 

“Let’s start slow Inspector, I do not want any broken ankles tonight, I’m too drunk to treat them”, she tells him and moves forwards, firmly but slow enough that Jack can catch himself in his first, instinctual move forwards and move backwards instead. 

It’s a shaky affair: his steps are less than firm, confusion stalling him at every turn. Mac, on the other hand, has the steps down perfectly. But while she knows her moves, she seems to struggle to communicate to Jack just what she wants. 

“No, no”, she tells him once they have completed a very slow first turn on the parquet, “You aren’t leading right now.” 

And then, “Jack try to relax a bit, will you. Drop your shoulders, god that looks painful” 

Jack realizes that he is, indeed, tensed up, as if braced for a collision. He tries to let the tension go but every move they take makes him fight his urge to step into Mac’s movements. The internalized notion that if he does not lead noone will is not an easy thing to lose. 

Another turn and Mac slows them down even further. This, in turn, messes with Jack’s concentration even more. 

“Careful”, he complains but Mac only grunts. 

“If you would let loose a bit this wouldn’t be a problem”, she tells him. 

Jack rolls his eyes and messes up the next step. He is seconds away from throwing up his hands and giving up, and Mac does not look like she will hold out much longer, when Phryne’s voice comes from the chaise. 

“Jack, close your eyes” Jack brings them to a forceful stop in the middle of the room, plants his feet and refuses to move, so he can turn around and look at Phryne with all the disbelief he feels at that moment. 

“Miss Fisher I am barely managing as it is”, he tells her, “I do not need to add an impaired vision to my handicaps at the moment” 

Phryne sniffs haughtily: “Handicaps. Jack please, dancing with Mac is hardly a handicap. And Mac” She turns to her friend who looks just as put out as Jack feels: “You’re dragging your feet, no wonder he doesn’t know where you want to go” 

Mac rolls her eyes. She and Phryne look at each other for a moment and finally Mac relents and groans: “Fine. But don’t you dare ever ask me again why I like teasing you. This is the best example of why you are a menace to society at large” 

“I thought that was you”, Jack cannot help but interrupt and when Mac looks at him with narrowed eyes he shrugs nonchalantly, “Suspect associates, highly opinionated and revolutionary tendencies, wasn’t it?” 

“I am never speaking to you again”, Mac declares, but waves him over imperiously, “Now close your eyes. The sooner we get this over with the better” 

That logic Jack cannot disagree with and he steps into Mac’s space once more, puts his hand on her shoulder and lets her settle her own on his waist. 

Phryne’s voice comes once more: “Close your eyes Jack, it will be fine.” 

“We’ll go slow”, the Doctor tells him and Jack sighs deeply and carefully closes his eyes. 

“This is a bad idea”, he tells them, just so no one can accuse him of not having said it, afterwards. With his eyes closed he feels even more lost than before. 

Mac does not move immediately. Instead she rests for a second, the music playing in the background before she says: “Phryne” in a tone that makes him think she is even less interested in continuing this dance than he is. 

But Phryne evidently will not hear anything about it. Instead, when he hears her speak it relaxes him somewhat. 

“Jack can I ask you a question?” she asks him and Jack, preoccupied with nodding, nearly misses the moment when Mac moves and to his surprise the first three steps work without their feet getting tangled up before he stops listening to Phryne and his movements get mangled again as he strains unconsciously against the way Mac leads him. 

For a few seconds he tries to get back into the rhythm but when he nearly stumbles into her when she turns them he opens his eyes, “Phryne, this isn’t working for me” 

Mac, right in front of him, nods vigorously. 

“It’s enough of a struggle to do this when we can see each other, closing his eyes doesn’t work”, she agrees and Phryne lets out a sigh before she leans back into the couch again. 

“Fine. It always works for me but if you want to try it with your eyes open” 

Jack let’s out another breath and feels Mac do the same. 

“One more?”, he asks and she nods, oddly determined now, almost as if this is a personal point of honour. 

This time they do not move to music, their hands find each other more easily than before and Jack hears Phryne’s voice in his ear even before they start moving. 

“Jack you trust Mac, right?” she asks and Jack finds himself nodding. 

“Of course”, he tells her and takes a step back when Mac steps forwards her hands insistent and careful on his waist. 

“And you know that she is capable and that she has never led us wrong in an investigation?” 

Jack rolls his eyes while they make a turn, his feet stumbling slightly but finding back into the rhythm almost immediately, “Of course I know that. Doctor MacMillan is the most capable Doctor I have ever met” 

This time it is Mac who stumbles and too late it dawns on Jack that he is talking about the woman he is dancing with. He cannot help but look at her and she stares back, her eyes wide and surprised. 

“I mean…”, Jack hurries to explain before he catches himself and realizes that there isn’t anything he needs to apologize for, “I mean it is true. You are without a doubt the most dedicated and skilful doctor I have ever met” 

Mac is still staring at him and they look at each other for a moment, their feet moving without them noticing. They make a turn, not flawless but solid in execution and Mac seems to get control of her face back because she coughs and pointedly looks away. 

“Well thank you, Inspector. Much appreciated”, she sounds gruff but beneath it Jack think to see a sliver of embarrassed pleasure and he feels like something settles inside him as he moves with her in another spin. 

“Mac”, Phryne’s voice is as hypnotic across the room as it is when she is right in front of him, “You trust Jack to make the right moves when it comes to investigations with the clues you give him?” 

Mac, obviously aware where her friend is leading them, nods and sighs: “You’re right” 

Her grip, Jack notices, becomes less steely, less like she is trying to force him and more like she wants to communicate what she is going to do before she does it. 

“Better?” she asks and it is directed at both Phryne and Jack. 

Jack only nods. It is indeed easier, he thinks, this way he can feel where she is moving before she does, which does wonders for his concentration. 

Phryne, on the other hand, makes an agreeable noise before she talks to Jack again. 

“And see”, Phryne says, her voice quiet and satisfied as if she had been the one to finally get her act together, “Jack. If you trust Mac to give us proper information on a case, then you can trust her to lead properly in a dance, can’t you?” 

Jack is surprised to find that yes, actually, he can trust her. Or at least his feet do. They have been dancing for quite a while now and consciously he relaxes into the hand on his waist and this time when Mac moves forward he moves back, when she turns them he goes with her and by the time he looks up there is a smile on his face. 

“This is easier than I thought”, he tells Mac and the Doctor nods, a small grin hidden in the corners of her mouth. 

“Very true”, she tells him and turns them once more. It is easier, Jack observes, to move with Mac he isn’t staring at his feet. 

Instead he looks at her. He has to bend his head a bit but they manage, her heels making her taller than she would ordinarily be. 

“Well Inspector, I must say this is not something I had foreseen us doing”, Mac jokes and Jack has to grin. 

“Me neither”, he confesses and leans into their next turn, their steps - one, two, three - tapping across the floor. “When in the world did you learn to dance both positions?” he asks her and Mac shrugs as well as she can with a hand on her shoulder she does not wish to dislodge. 

“Here and there. You ah… pick up some things when you frequent in the circles that I walk in. Personally I simply had some”, she gives him a smile that is obviously supposed to make him squirm but with the buzzing alcohol in his blood it does little more than intrigue him, “VERY dedicated teachers” 

Jack smirks at her: “Must have been very good teachers if this is the result” 

Mac looks at him with the gaze that he has seen her direct at Phryne on more than one occasion: Two spots of exasperation and one of playful annoyance. 

“Inspector this is unbelievable”, she tells him, their feet moving through the steps as fluid as if they had been doing it their whole life, “Clearly you need to stop spending time with Phryne, she is a terrible influence on you” 

From the couch comes an outraged exclamation: “Me?! I’m a wonderful influence one everyone I have ever met, I’ll have you know!” 

Mac and Jack look at each other and promptly start laughing. 

It is so easy, Jack marvels as their feet keep moving despite their laughter, so easy to fall into step with this woman. It is like they have known each other for far longer than they do. 

Mac widens their spins and Jack goes with it easily, they circle the room, brushing by the furniture before winding the circles closer again. They are smiling at each other and there is something dangerously close to fondness unfolding inside of him as he looks at the Doctor, something dangerously close to friendship. 

It feels good, he thinks as he sees Phryne watching them delightedly over her glass of wine. Dancing through a room with these women, he admits to himself, caught in this bubble of safety and friendship and easy laughter, feels fantastic. 

After several long moments the piece winds down into its closing. The music tapers out, a long, slow run, at odds with the upbeat tempo it has been at the beginning and their dance ends the same way. 

They twirl on the floor once, twice, a third time and Jack let’s Mac turns them until she brings them to a graceful stop in the middle of the room. Still they are grinning at each other. 

From the chaise the unexpected sound of clapping hands sounds through the room: “Bravo you two!” 

Phryne is on her feet and laughing, her eyes glowing and her lips stretched into the smile that is so typical for her, wide and warm and openly amused. 

Mac smiles up at Jack. “Not as bad as I had feared”, she confesses and smiles, “Maybe next time we’ll try the tango?” 

Jack, cushioned by alcohol and a successful dance session laughs and grasps her hand: “Doctor I hope you realise I will hold you to that!” 

“Inspector”, she tells him seriously, turning their held hands into a firm handshake, “I am counting on it!” 

Phryne claps her hands once more in delight as she wanders over to them. She waits until they separate and then she grasps for Jack and waves him over to the couch before giving him her wineglass. 

“Go and sit down Jack, you had two dances, you get to have a small break now” She turns to Mac, “And you and I are dancing now. The next song is fantastic darling, I can’t miss that one” 

Mac pulls a face and throws a shrug towards Jack when he pulls his own but let’s Phryne pull her into the middle of the room again while Jack wanders back towards the chaise and. He peruses the glasses on the mantelpiece and picks out his own sherry glass easily, seeing as it is the only one without lipstick prints on it. 

Meanwhile Phryne and Mac are arguing about the floor and whether shoes are appropriated at this point or not. 

“Phryne my stockings aren’t exactly made for your wood floor”, Mac complains, “I will break my neck if I try to dance without my shoes” 

Phryne rolls her eyes, as if Mac was being purposefully ignorant: “Nonsense Mac, have a little faith in me I won’t let you fall” 

Settling back down after having retrieved his glass and the sherry bottle Jack leans into the cushions and watches as Doctor MacMillan valiantly tries to stand her ground. 

“Phryne”, she says as if she is speaking to a child, “Phryne you won’t be able to hold me up if I lose my footing, you are not exactly Hercules and I do weight a bit more than you seem to think” 

“I have tried wear your clothing often enough that I KNOW what your size is Mac”, Phryne tells her as she sighs, put upon, “I can hold you. Trust me?” 

Mac refuses to look at her friend, turns her face away in a futile try not to look into her face. But Phryne walks around her in a circle until they can look at each other and Mac manages to withstand a few seconds, before she caves. 

“God. Fine. If I die you will get NOTHING in my will. Jack” she calls out and hastily Jack hides the shit-eating grin that had been spreading on his face, “Make sure she leaves with empty hands” 

He coughs and nods seriously: “Absolutely Doctor. No inheritance for Miss Fisher” 

Phryne rolls her eyes. 

“As if I’d want any of those dull books you so love”, she grumbles. 

“I do have more things than just medical books, Phryne”, the doctor protests, while she holds onto the door frame with one hand loosening her shoe laces with the other. 

Phryne mimics a moving mouth with her hand and interrupts her: “Yes, yes darling. Now silence, the music is starting” 

Rolling her eyes in a move that must HURT, it is so extensive, Mac pushes her shoe off and pulls Phryne’s hand into her own and settles her hands over Phryne’s shoulder. Phryne smiles approvingly and Mac digs her fingers into her shoulder a bit harden when Phryne grabs her around the waist and laughs. 

When the music starts Jack reaches over and picks up the cover of the record, searching for the music list. It’s a more upbeat song than the two before, merry and suited for fast and exhausting dancing. 

Phryne starts. Despite the fact that music and dance do not fit each other she begins with a waltz. She moves them forwards and into a slow twirl, their feet not in the typical ¾ rhythm. Instead they twirl on the spot, their feet in easy harmony as they find a movement that fits them both. 

Jack watches them and there is warmth in his belly, the sherry and the crackers doing their work as he contemplates the women. 

There is a familiarity in their steps that is impossible to recreate, a simple knowledge of where the other will step before they have done it. 

“What were you saying about my left feet?”, Phryne asks as she changes their steps into a proper waltz, their socked feet moving over the floor in tune with each other. 

“You just aren’t drunk enough to lose your rhythm yet”, Mac tells her decisively as she fits herself into Phryne’s steps, “Make this a bit faster Phryne, we can sleep when we’re dead” 

Phryne fluffs up her cheeks and huffs out a breath: “Here I am wanting a nice dance and you can do nothing but complain” 

“Yes, yes”, Mac mimics Phryne’s words from before, “But will you get on with it please?” 

Rolling her eyes Phryne shifts and they fall into a new set of steps. 

“Phryne”, Mac groans as they pull closer together, their bodies touching along the front, “A Foxtrot was not what I meant” 

There is no awkwardness in their transition and no falter in their movements. 

Despite her complaining Mac dances as if she has anticipated her friend’s choice, their feet now moving in the rectangular forms of the Foxtrot, as graceful as their waltz had been. 

“Well then, if you’re so eager to complain, give me something to work with!”, Phryne tells her as they keep dancing even as they narrowly avoid a collision with the table, their turns sharp and abrupt, danced in perfect synchrony. 

Silence reins for a few moments, only disrupted by the music. 

Jack does not know where the urge comes from but he goes with it before he can stop himself: “A tango. How about it. The Doctor seemed to be fond of it a few minutes ago” 

With their next step-turn Mac throws him a thunderous glare but Phryne gives a little hop between their steps, something which Mac _somehow_ manages to compensate for: “What a lovely idea!” 

She gives no warning before she changes her grip. 

She and Mac spin once, a tight circle, during which they separate for a second before Mac catches Phryne’s hand, her grip different from before and Phryne pulls Mac back in, her back now to Phryne’s front. Jack can see Phryne rolling her eyes: 

“Mac, we said tango, not a Mattchiche” 

The doctor sniffs haughtily and they move on the next note, a wide circle in a faster than a normal tango rhythm, as they purposefully increase the tempo. 

“You mean you and Jack said tango. And stop complaining!”, she says, her and Phryne’s steps as short and sharp and precise as it is possible on hardwood floors in stockings. 

Her next words are directed at Jack, “I remember when this dance became popular. She couldn’t get enough of it. Kept dancing it the whole night through until no one would dance with her anymore because our feet hurt so much!” 

Once more they spin apart before they settle into a ballroom position again, now taking up tango steps that are more familiar with Jack. They look at each other, and their faces fall into identical expressions, small smiles stretching their lips despite their teasing. 

Their tango is a thing of beauty, Jack thinks. Bodies close together, Mac’s hand leaning outwards under Phryne’s upper arm and Phryne’s properly situated on Mac’s shoulder blade, their positions might as well have been taken out of a textbook. 

They make the dance look easy, the way they glide and slide across the wood, never losing contact, never faltering. As if they have done it a thousand times before. 

Which, Jack muses as he takes a sip of sherry, might very well be the truth. It wouldn’t surprise him. 

They turn and suddenly Phryne’s smile becomes mischievous and she leans her head towards Jack without taking her eyes off of Mac: “Jack would you like to see _Mac's_ favourite dance?” 

Mac’s eyes widen in glee for a second before they twist apart and they both twist in a circle of their own, their arms swinging and Jack laughs because he remembers this, remembers seeing them dance the Charleston during Phryne’s last birthday party. 

They swivel on the balls of their feet as they step – forward and backward and forward and back – back and forth across the floor, tapping on the last step while their arms swing wide, in tune alongside their feet. 

Their hands find each other and they stay close, their steps become less wide before breaking up again. They throw in a turn as they begin to laugh when their hands find each other for a second time, their voices mingling with the music which, for the first time during the evening, fits their dance moves. 

They twirl, their feet keeping their steps perfectly in sync, like they are one mind moving across the floor with abandon. 

Jack cannot help it, he has to laugh with them. Their joy is infectious, their happiness so genuine he nearly hurts from it. 

The music of the record end with one last, loud sound and Mac and Phryne stop back where they had started, their hands now clasped in each other and they are grinning so wide it must strain their cheeks. 

Jack does what Phryne had done, and claps: “Doctor, I will hold you to that promise of the tango” he tells her as she and Phryne turn towards him and Phryne, who is doing something that is probably supposed to be a curtsy but falls several degrees short, looks up in glee: 

“Oh please make sure I am there to see it!” 

Mac only laughs, her fingers disentangling from her friend as she pushes her hair out of her face before fiddling with her pins. 

“Of course Inspector I would not dream of anything else” 

She walks over and grabs her wine glass from the mantelpiece and, ignoring Phryne’s beseechingly stretched out hands, she takes a deep gulp of the drink. 

“If you want something done -”, Phryne grumbles and walks over to get her glass herself. 

“- then you might as well do it yourself since you’re never satisfied otherwise anyway”, May gripes and Phryne makes another rude gesture. 

She sinks against Jack’s side where they stand and he nearly jumps with surprise but stops himself in time. 

“Janey never liked dancing” she says, out of the blue when the silence drags on longer than before. 

It’s nearly conversationally, even though Jack’s heart gives a terrible jump at the sound of the girl’s name. 

Mac laughs: “I remember! She was so graceful in trees and on roofs but the seconds she had to stand in a dance position for five seconds she would go lurching all over the place! It drove your mother mad!” 

Phryne grins into her wine. 

“She did that on purpose”, she murmurs and Mac looks outraged and mutters ‘deception!’ while Phryne continues, laughter in her voice and a sparkle in her eyes, “She could dance but she was worried it would encourage mother to give her more dance lessons if she thought Janey was any good at it” She snorts: “Not that it helped her. She was the one who got stuck in remedial lessons because mother was determined that she should at least manage the basics” 

“Let me guess”, Jack ventures and Phryne and Mac turn their heads, Phryne craning hers up so she can look at him without dislodging her head from his shoulder, “She didn’t want to admit that she had lied about her dancing and saw the deception through to it’s bitter end?” 

Phryne snaps her fingers and smiles: “Exactly. Very well deduced Inspector!” 

“God, stubborn like a herd of mules, your entire family Phryne”, Mac laughs as she leans back against the mantle-piece. 

Jack and Phryne looks at each other and when Phryne raises a brow Jack looks Mac straight in the eye and says: “What was it you said before? Good evening Miss Pot…?” 

Mac grabs a cushion and throws it at them before he can finish and Phryne laughs so hard she barely manages to dodge it, but Jack lazily catches the projectile and shakes it out with exaggerated care before he throws it back onto the chaise. 

“That could be constructed as assault on a Police Investigator”, he tells the Doctor and Mac rolls her eyes. 

“Yes I am sure the commissioner will be oh so impressed if you clap me in irons because I threatened you with a cuddly pillow, Inspector” 

“Well to be fair it was a very menacing pillow”, Jack tells her with a straight face and Phryne, who has just collected herself, starts laughing yet again as Mac rolls her eyes while she fights the smile that is overtaking her face. 

When Jack looks at her, Phryne seems so much more unburdened than she had all night. Letting her head drop back against the mantle she stares up at the ceiling. 

“Do you think”, she asks them her eyes unfocused, “that the other’s will come back sooner than I said?” 

Jack frowns but Mac smiles lazily as she wanders over and grasps for the package of cigarettes. 

“Feeling better, I take it?”, she asks her voice gentle despite her expression and Phryne nods, her fingers circling the edges of her wine glass. 

“For now”, she tells them and the way Mac’s face gentles for Phryne makes Jack want to look away. 

“At least something good coming out of the day then”, she says. 

Phryne snorts as she pushes her head upward again: “I could have just invited everyone instead of having all of you drop by uninvited and without me knowing. Maybe then we wouldn’t be stuck with embarrassingly bad alcohol” 

Mac waves her hand: “No matter darling, as long as you’re good now everything else is an acceptable price. Even this horrible wine! And don’t lie, you like it” 

“I was fine before too”, Phryne protests and Mac looks at her, dry disbelief written all over her and Phryne stand up completely and takes a drink. 

“Well I would have been fine anyway” 

“No one said you wouldn’t have been”, Mac tells her.  
“We would just father make sure that you are feeling good instead of just fine”, Jack says quietly and Phryne looks at him with creased eyebrows but Mac nods towards him and gives him a silent salute. 

“Listen to the clever man Phryne, he knows what he is talking about” 

And Jack is sure the smile is never going to leave his face again. 

When she has taken a gulp Phryne sets her glass back on on the table and claps her hands once more before she waltzes over to the record player: “Very well my dears. You seem so determined to get me out of this funk, so prove yourself. What do we dance now?” 

She looks at them over her shoulder with a smile that is intentionally aggravating: “How about the chicken scratch?” 

Mercifully the doorbell rings. 

Confused Mac and Jack look at each other before focusing on Phryne who has turned at the sound and is staring at the front door with an expression of flummoxed confusion on her face. 

“Should I go?”, Jack asks and Phryne nods. 

Jack nods in turn and walks towards the front door when a second later Phryne seems to decide differently and joins him. Thumbing the latches out of place Phryne let’s Jack pull the door open and he comes face to face with the raised fist of Dorothy Williams. 

The woman yelps when she sees who she is standing in front of and she hastily lowers it. 

“Inspector!” she exclaims, her shock giving way to confusion as she looks at him and then at Phryne who is standing next to him, in her stockings, with the clear colour of red wine on her lips, flushed from dancing and laughing. 

It takes Jack a second to understand why both the Constable and Miss Williams look at them with reddening faces and once he makes the connection it is too late to stop Mac from stepping up on Phryne’s other side. 

“Hugh, Dot!”, she exclaims, delight clear in her voice, “I didn’t know the two of you would come back so early!” 

There is another cigarette dangling in her fingers which she must have lit only seconds ago, since there is barely any ash at the end. 

Jack closes his eyes and groans when The Constables and Miss William’s eyes zero in on the Doctor’s dishevelled hair and her shoeless feet and breathless smile. 

“This is not”, he begins with barely a hope of anyone believing him, “what is looks like” 

Mac turns towards him with raised eyebrows, confusion written into her face as she takes a drag from the cigarette but Phryne simply smiles and says: “But Jack, it is _exactly_ what it looks like” 

She turned to Dot: “Mac and Jack decided that I couldn’t be left to spend the evening alone and gallantly offered to spend it with me.” 

Her eyes narrow in playful suspicion. 

“But you knew that Mac was coming, didn’t you, Dot?”, she asks shrewdly and Dot’s face goes through several expressions in the space of several seconds and finally decides on guilty and apologetic. 

“I was worried Miss. I am sorry, I just thought maybe Doctor MacMillan would be able to help…” 

“Say no more Dot”, Phryne holds up a hand and holds her disapproving expression for a few seconds until Dot looks like she might sink through the floor in embarrassment before she smiles again and pulls Dot into a careful hug. 

“It was a wonderful idea Dot. Thank you” she whispers and Dot relaxes all at once, worry practically evaporating as she wraps her own arms around Phryne and hugs her back. 

“Thank you Miss. I was just so worried! I didn’t know who else to call!” 

“You definitely made the right call”, Mac pipes up from beside Jack and she gives Dot a smile, “We were miserable together instead of on our own” 

From where she is still hugging Dot Phryne rolls her eyes at Mac: “Yes well, be that as it may” she leans back and puts both hands on Dot’s arms, “The next time we have this situation I’ll make time and you’ll talk to me first, alright?” 

She brushes a curl of hair out of Dot’s face and Dot nods vigorously and smiles, free and easy, for the first time since Jack has opened the door. 

“Now. Not that I am not happy to see the two of you”, Phryne says and looks at them with a frown on her brow, “But I remember that I told you to stay out until at least midnight! So why are the two of you here again already?” 

Dot fiddles with the necklace around her neck (a beautiful pearl chain that looks, to Jack’s untrained eye, extremely expensive and suits her wonderfully) and Hugh, for reasons unknown is watching his shoes with the greatest interest. 

“Dot was… very concerned about you”, the Constable finally ventures and Phryne looks at her with raised eyebrows before he continues, “She wanted to make sure that everything was alright” 

“Oh Dot”, Phryne says, a smile breaking out over her lips, “I really didn’t mean to worry you so. I hope you didn’t cut anything short tonight because of me?” 

Dot, who is staring at Hugh with betrayed eyes, says: “Oh no Miss, to be honest, Hugh was also quite worried about you.” 

Hugh’s head shoots up and he meets Phryne’s eyes for a split second before he blushes painfully red and looks away again while Dot finally looks away from him and continues, “We decided it would be best to check up on you before we went anywhere else” 

“You really shouldn’t have you two” Phryne’s eyes are glowing with laughter as she watches Hugh but she relents before the Constable implodes with embarrassment, “But now that you are here, why don’t you come in and then we can get you something to drink and maybe turn the music a bit louder” 

“We wouldn’t be… interrupting anything?”, Hugh asks and when Phryne blinks at him in confusion his barely receded blush comes back in full force. Dot hits him gently on the arm as he stutters. 

“Well I just…“, he waves ineffectually towards the three of them standing in the door. 

Jack groans silently and turns around, safe in the knowledge that the others will follow him and just tipsy enough not to care how it looks like. 

From behind him he hears the badly suppressed laughter in Mac’s voice as she reassures the couple: “You aren’t interrupting anything, I promise you. Now come in before you start growing roots out there” 

He hears them shuffle inside and the door closes behind them with a soft click before someone shuts the locks once more. 

Jack survey’s the state of the salon and muses when he feels the unmistakeable form of Phryne leaning against him: “I think we will need some more glasses. Unless you want to share” 

Phryne laughs, the sound of singing glass spilling out of her. 

“I think we can manage one or two sherry glasses”, she murmurs and squeezes his arm before detaching herself from him, “Do go on inside dears, I’ll get us some more glasses. Wine or sherry, what do you want?” 

“Maybe some wine?”, Hugh’s voice comes out more a question than a request and from the sound of Phryne’s steps Dot must have nodded. 

A second later Dot and Hugh, divested of coats and in Dot’s case, her hat, wander into the salon and Jack sees Dot’s eyes widen in dismay when she catches sight of the bottles. 

“Have you been drinking all evening?”, she asks and Mac, who walks in behind them, laughs as she kicks her shoes, still next to the door, under one of the book cases. 

“Most of them are still unopened”, she assures the other woman. She grasps Dot’s and Hugh hand’s and pulls them towards the chaise: “Sit down, the two of you look like you haven’t had a single proper glass of wine this evening” 

Mac has grabbed her own glass and is filling it with wine from one of the bottles. 

Jack rolls his eyes as he walks over just in time to take the glass out of the Doctor’s hand before she presents it to Dot. 

“You are not attacking anyone else with that horrible swill this evening”, he tells her and stays firm in the face of her put out expression. 

“Spoilsport”, she huffs and he smiles at her thinly before giving the glass back to her with a strict look. 

“And don’t you forget it” 

“I may just change my mind about that tango Inspector”, she threatens mildly as she takes a sip from her glass and grimaces. 

“God”, she shudders, “Every time I forget how awful it is” 

Jack grins without repentance or pity as he reaches for his own sherry glass and takes a sip of his own with exaggerated enjoyment. 

“You made your bed, now you get to lie in it”, he explains sagely and dodges the elbow aimed at his ribs. 

Dot and Hugh are staring at them. 

The Constable sports a gobsmacked look which makes some distant, sober part of Jack want to sit up straight and act responsible. He pushes it away and tells himself that as long as he isn’t dancing on a table everything is still in the parameters of acceptable behaviour. 

Dot, on the other hand, is hiding her mouth behind her hands but Jack still sees the gleeful tilt of her lips that gives her laugh lines around her eyes and makes her look even lovelier than she normally does. 

“Is it really that bad Inspector?”, she asks him and he throws her a look as grim as he can manage and says, deathly serious. 

“Dreadful. I am sparing you a very unpleasant experience” 

Dot’s shoulders are shaking with supressed laughter: “Did the Doctor offer it to you too then?” 

Mac is laughing, the hitches in her breath more than enough evidence of her hilarity and Jack mimes a swipe at her without taking his gaze from Dot. 

“She and Miss Fisher offered me a drink without warning me yes. I wouldn’t wish that on you” 

“In that case”, Dot says primly towards Mac, “I think I will pass and wait for Miss Fisher and something that does not taste like…” she looks at Jack and he promptly delivers: 

“Brimstone and fire in liquid form” 

Phryne’s voice calls them out of their laughter a few moments later. 

“Hugh”, she stands in the door of the salon and smiles at them with laughing eyes, “Hugh would you help me for a moment. I can’t reach the wine on top of the cabinet” 

Turning to Dot she grumbles: “I have no idea who gave Mr Butler the idea to stock the wine up there but I will be having a word with them once I find out. This is just not practical” 

Hugh has already stood up: “Of course Miss Fisher” 

They disappear back out of the door and Dot looks after them before she reaches for two of the glasses that Phryne has brought with her and sets them in front of her own and Hugh’s seats. While she busies herself she keeps her eyes on her hands so it surprises Jack when she starts talking the laughter gone from her voice: “Is she truly alright?” 

Mac is faster than him as she puts and arm around Dot’s shoulders and waits patiently until the girl has stopped her fiddling and turns to look her into the face. 

“She is fine Dot. She just needed”, she seems to search for a term that is appropriate and ends with, “she needed time. And someone who she did not need to explain anything to” 

Dot watches her face and finally gives a small nod: “I know. I was just… she hasn’t been herself today.” 

“It’s not easy for her today”, Mac agrees and Jack sees her squeeze Dot’s arm in compassion. 

The girl gives her a watery smile and nods again: “Thank you Doctor. For being there for her” 

Mac shrugs with easy grace: “No need Dot. I wasn’t much better off. We help each other.” She smiles, and it is as easy as her movements. 

“It’s what we do. It’s what all of us”, she gestures between herself and Dot and Jack and towards the kitchen where Phryne and Hugh are, “do for each other” 

Smiling Dot nods and now it is her who squeezes the Doctor’s arm in wordless compassion. Jack watches them and marvels at how easily Miss Fisher makes friends out of people who, in another lifetime, would never have crossed the other’s path. 

“And what brought you here, Inspector?”, Dot asks him once she has turned back towards the table, “We hadn’t expected to see you today” 

Jack shrugs, suddenly uncomfortable. 

“I simply wanted to wish Miss Fisher a happy birthday”, he tells her and she smiles widely at him. 

“He also brought her a present”, Mac throws in with far too much delight. 

He mouth ‘Snitch’ at her, but can’t stop himself from smiling when all she does is grin unrepentantly. 

“Oh really?”, Dot asks excitedly and looks around, “What did you give her Inspector?” 

“The record that’s playing”, Mac says, beating Jack to the punch, “It’s a really good one too” 

It is in that moment that a new song starts playing that exchanges the slow languid rhythm from before with a ¾ tact, perfect for a fast waltz. 

“Oh I love this song!”, Dot exclaims and Jack takes a second to listen to the new sounds coming from the record. 

Jack smiles as an idea comes to him. 

“It seems that Hugh is going to take some time still”, he tells them and Dot deflates slightly as she realizes he is right, “But maybe”, Jack continues slyly, “The Doctor wants to take you for a dance? I assure you”, he tells Dot in mock conspiracy as the Doctor looks at him in flummoxed surprise, “That she is very good at leading. I got a dose of that myself just a short while ago” 

Dot looks confused for a second but then she suddenly smiles: “You will have to tell me about that later Inspector” she says before she turns to Mac: “Would you, Doctor?” 

Mac, still surprised, shakes off her shock and grumbles good naturedly at Jack before she laughs and nods: “Of course Dot” 

She stands and offers a hand to Dot who takes it and lets her pull her up from the chaise and onto the floor. 

Jack leans back into the chaise and watches as they orient themselves for a few seconds. 

“Should I take off my shoes?” Dot asks dubiously and Mac shakes her head as she laughs. 

“Leave them on, I am not confident that I will be able to catch you if you slip” 

Dot just smiles and lifts their still connected hands so that they are in a proper standard position and lets her hand rest on Mac’s shoulder. 

“I am pretty sure that that is a lie Doctor”, she tells her and Mac snorts and shakes her head fondly. 

“You and Phryne, I swear to god”, she mutters but carefully let’s her hand rest on Dot’s waist and leads them into a waltz with the next tact. 

Dot is practically vibrating with happiness as they twirl a box-step across the floor 

“I love this song” she says once again, “Isn’t it fantastic?” 

Her heels clap loudly on the wood and Jack needs to stop himself from flinching every time he sees them coming a bit too close to Mac’s stocking clad feet. The Doctor seems completely unconcerned as she leads them, sure in her steps. 

“You have fantastic form Dot”, she comments as they split apart to do a promenade before coming back together, “Much better than the Inspector if I may say so” 

Jack rolls his eyes as Dot giggles. 

“Maybe Miss Williams can learn how to lead from you and we can compare that one between ourselves”, Jack suggests and Mac grins at him as they turn once more. 

“Wonderful idea! Dot, how about it?” 

“Doctor”, Dot chastises even while she smiles, “I would hate to make the Inspector think that he has to compete with me” 

Mac’s laughter is uproarious, loud and unapologetic as she throws her head back: “That would be unfair for him wouldn’t it be?!” 

Jack smiles and winks at Dot from where Mac can’t see him, sending the woman into a fit of laughter. The voices of Phryne and Hugh distract him and he turns towards the door. 

“It is quite alright Hugh”, Phryne is saying as they round the corner, “Your concern is very much appreciated but I am quite well and you needn’t worry” 

Jack bites his lip to stop from smiling. She really is remarkable, he thinks, hopelessly lost in the face of the absolute honesty, the startling kindness that she radiates. 

For the second time that evening the doorbell ends the moment rather abruptly. 

Phryne turns and looks torn between walking back to get the door and putting down her load. 

Hugh takes the deicision from her as he gives her both of his bottles and says: “I’ll get it Miss” 

Phryne, balancing the wine precariously, nods: “Yes yes, let me know who it is please” 

Once she has a proper grip on the bottles she looks up and catches his eyes. She smiles, and then she grimaces as the bottles slip on the soft cloth of her dress and she walks over towards Jack, reaching out with the bottles for Jack to take from her hands. 

“I dearly hope you are not expecting us to drink all of this”, Jack murmurs as he reaches out and relieves her of her burden while Phryne deposits the rest on the table. 

Phryne shakes out her fingers and snorts as she swings down heavily on the chaise beside him: “Who said we will drink it all today. Tomorrow is a perfectly acceptable day. I am just making sure that we won’t run out.” 

Shaking his head Jack laughs softly, closing his eyes. 

Phryne is silent and when he opens his eyes again she murmurs: “I wonder who it is” just seconds before Hugh’s voice says: 

“Come in, everyone is in the parlour” 

Frowning Phryne swings her legs down again and Jack, too, feels a frown breaking across his face, wondering why Hugh would let someone inside when Phryne had told him that she wanted to know them beforehand. But he understands when the voice that answers Hugh wafts into the salon. 

“Who is everyone?”, comes Jane’s voice and Jack feels Phryne relax beside him as she pushes herself up and walks towards the doorway. 

“An impromptu family celebration none of us was aware of”, she calls into the entrance hall and then changes her mind and leans against the door jamb when she is halfway out of the room instead and throws an amused glance at Jack over her shoulder: “Mac and Jack and Dot and Hugh are here. Come in you two. How was the pictures? And what did you do with Bert?” 

The sound of clothes being hung into the wardrobe filters through to the salon before Jane and a girl of the same age walk into the room. 

“It was amazing!”, Jane’s gushes, her cheeks red from the cold and her eyes looking more awaken than Jack feels, “Bert brought us to the door and then he left, said he wanted to see if he could catch Cec and Alice before midnight!” 

The girl next to Jane looks unsure and startles terribly when Phryne’s hand lands on her shoulder: “It’s wonderful that you liked it so much, dear.” She tells Jane with a smile, “You will have to tell me all about it. And let’s hope that Cec and Alice won’t mind being interrupted. But first…” 

She turns the girl next to her around so that she can see the rest of the room while Hugh sidles back inside the salon behind her and steals his way across the room towards the second chaise where he sits down. 

“You know me, Maggie”, she tells the girl, Maggie, whose cheeks are even redder than Jane’s, and waits until she nods shyly, “Marvellous. Let me introduce the others. That is Detective Inspector Jack Robinson” she gestures to the chaise and Jack sits up a bit straighter, suddenly uncomfortably aware of the dishevelled state of his hair and his clothes and of the whisky glass in his hands. He gives her a nod, trying to look respectable and apparently fails utterly going by the smile on Maggie’s face. 

“And that”, she points to Hugh who nervously smooth’s down his trousers and gives Maggie a smile that she gives back shyly, “Is Constable Hugh Collins. He works with Jack. You know Jane” Jack feels his eyebrows rise to his hairline as both Jane and Maggie abruptly colour delicately and he has to bite his lip to stop himself from grinning, sure that such a reaction would mortify the poor children even more. 

Dot and Mac have not stopped dancing since the girls have entered the room, but it is obvious from Dorothy’s reaction to Phryne’s next words that they are both listening avidly: “And those two waltzing across my floor are Dorothy Williams and Doctor MacMillan. Dorothy is the one in the pretty dress and she is Hugh’s sweetheart” 

Dot spins the two of them around with a bit of ingenious footwork so she can look Phryne in the eyes and exclaims: “Miss!” in an absolutely scandalised shout. 

Phryne does not have the decency to look even slightly apologetic as she winks at her and Dot softens immediately when she sees how Maggie looks at them, a slightly disbelieving but happy tilt to her smile. 

Ignoring Phryne for the time being she gives Maggie a smile and calls: “Good Evening Miss” towards her and Maggie gives back an awkward little wave. 

But, Jack realises, it is not Dot she is looking at. Her eyes are following the couple over the dance floor, yes, but she is focused on Mac, and not Dot, even while she and Dot speak to each other. 

“And the one in the rather fantastic, if only half-assembled suit is Dr Elizabeth MacMillan”, Phryne says, and when Jack looks at her face there is a curl to her lips that contains so much it is impossible to unravel it’s meaning, “She is my best friend and Jane’s godmother” 

This time it is Mac who turns the pair so they can watch the girls and she smiles with the exact same curl to her lips that Jack has seen on Phryne’s face just moments earlier: “Good evening Maggie.” 

Then she looks past her and at Jane who is leaning into Phryne and is watching the proceedings with a barely concealed anticipation. 

“Do the two of you want to dance?”, she asks. 

When Maggie looks at Jane, with very visible panic in her gaze, Jack worries that Mac has gone too far, that they have misread the girls. 

But then Mac’s calls: “You will see that Jane is rather good at dancing, even though she stumbles a bit during the turns” 

And Phryne’s hand squeezes the girls shoulder in reassurance and Jane steps up next to her and takes her hand with an encouraging smile. And Maggie relaxes and smiles, still painfully shy but looking less likely to bolt any second. 

“Maybe… maybe later?”, she asks, plaintive and then, when she and Jane look at each other, she repeats with more conviction, “Maybe later tonight?” 

Phryne’s clap makes them all flinch: “Fantastic! Now then, you two. How about we go and find you something to drink that is a little less heavy on the alcohol and then make ourselves comfortable?” 

The girls nod and trot out of the room after Phryne who is already gesticulating and asking them about their preferred beverage. Jack catches Mac’s gaze and she and Dot have slowed down nearly to a stop, only swaying now, the both of them watching the girl’s retreating backs. 

“I didn’t know Jane was… well. Interested in girls?”, Dot remarks quietly, her eyes still on the door. 

“Neither did I”, Mac murmurs and their steps become irregular for a moment, “And not to offend you Dot but since I am the more ah… _obvious_ person to ask about these things” she smiles as she and Dot exchange a rather wry glance, “I am a bit more worried about not knowing about it” 

She looks conflicted, Jack thinks and remarks: “Maybe she wasn’t sure and wanted to be before asking you?” 

Mac turns and looks at him in contemplation before she shrugs: “I’ll ask her about it if she won’t come to me” 

Dot nods with a smile: “That is probably a good idea Doctor” 

They pick up speed again and Dot’s heels beat a rapid staccato into the floor once more. 

Jack leans back and his eyes swerve to the Constable who is still watching the door, his expressive face curiously slack. 

“But I thought”, he mutters, low enough for the women to not hear him, “I didn’t think Jane was… like that?” 

Jack turns towards him and watches, not sure if he has a right to interfere or if he should leave it be. 

Hugh turns to him and looks lost: “But didn’t she like that boy? The one in Queenscliff?” 

Jack shrugs uncomfortably: “Maybe. Apparently she likes Maggie now” He is bad at this, Jack thinks and hopes he will not mess it up, “She liked him and now he likes her. Nothing special is it?” 

Hugh opens his mouth but his eyes are drawn to the dancefloor and he watches Mac and Dot for a second while they step in and out of each other’s space with Jack following his example. 

“Maybe they’re just friends?”, he asks helplessly and Jack shrugs once more and murmurs: 

“They seem to be blushing quite excessively for them to be just friends” 

When Hugh makes no move to look any less uncomfortable Jack sighs deeply and, hoping desperately he won’t screw it up, bends forward. 

“It isn’t a problem. Is it?” 

He avoids Hugh’s title, wants this to not be between a superior and his co-worker but between, well… friends, which they all are under the roof of Phryne Fisher. 

“If they like each other like that… Then wouldn't that be alright?” 

Hugh answer disappears in the arrival of Phryne and the girls, back from the kitchen and now armed with glasses and a bottle that looks like apple cider. Phryne has her head turned, talking to the girls over her shoulder, somehow having managed to make Maggie not only more comfortable but actually having gotten her to smile. 

Jane is walking beside them, obviously listening to her mother, but her eyes are riveted to her friend, and her eyes give her away as she hangs on to Maggie’s every laugh. 

Jack watches carefully as Hugh watches the girls and he relaxes only when Hugh leans back with a befuddled but ultimately peaceful huff of defeat: “Yes. Yes it is alright.” 

When Maggie and Jane look at the chaise he smiles and gestures for them to sit down. 

“Well. Did we miss anything?”, Phryne asks as she puts the glasses onto the table and directs the girls into one of the armchairs, big enough for two if one does not mind getting cosy. 

Jack snorts and makes room for her so she can sit between him and Hugh once more. 

“Nothing spectacular, no” he informs her and watches as she gives out the two glasses of cider once they have been filled. 

“Hugh”, she asks and takes one of the wine bottle she and Hugh had gotten from the kitchen, “Would you like some wine? Or whisky?” 

Hugh flounders for a moment and says: “Uh… Wine?”, as if he is asking a question but Phryne obliges with her usual aplomb and soon he has a glass standing in front of himself. 

When everyone has a glass standing in front of them Phryne leans back into the couch and Jack lets himself rest his eyes on her. 

She has lost the look of reminiscence she had worn when he had first arrived. The sadness is also gone and only a faint touch around her eyes makes clear that she is still not a hundred percent back to her normal self. Maybe, he thinks, the misery has been chased away by her need to have enough space in the house for this many people. Maybe she is more occupied with her daughter’s issues than her own. 

Or maybe, he muses, closing his eyes, maybe being in the company of people she trusts makes the day easier for her. 

When he looks back towards her she is lost in contemplation, watching Mac and Dot dance across the room, talking and laughing with each other as Mac tries to show Dot how to take the lead. 

“They look good together don’t they”, she muses and Jack nods thoughtlessly, because yes they do make a rather striking couple but Hugh’s cough shakes him out of his silence. 

He and Phryne, as well as Maggie and Jane lean forward to look at Hugh who seems to have inhaled something the wrong way. 

“Hugh is everything alright?”, Phryne asks in concern and Hugh waves her off. “Yes, thank you, Miss Fisher” 

Jack looks back and forth between Hugh and the dancing pair on the floor and he ruthlessly squashes his grin. No need to make the poor boy even more self-conscious than he already is. 

Maggie watches with some trepidation but Jane is grinning and all of a sudden Jack realizes that both of their hands are hidden by their rather strategically draped dresses. He sternly fobids himself a grin and looks back towards Phryne.

Phryne, as is her wont, takes one look between the women on the dancefloor and the Constable, understands immediately and starts laughing. 

Blushing even deeper Hugh buries his head deeper in his collar. 

“Miss, _please_ ”, he hisses at her and Phryne makes a credible effort at reigning herself in. 

“Oh Hugh, you should know better”, Phryne laughs as she turns more fully towards him, “Dot is head over heels in love with you. And Mac has far better manners than to steal someone’s sweetheart” 

And despite the fact that they had all been rather open about it and that Jane must have told her some of the things that went on Phryne’s house (and how they went on) Maggie’s eyes are still bulging out of their sockets. She stares, breathless, first at Phryne, then at Hugh and then, nearly timid, as if afraid of what she is going to see, at Mac. 

“I… I didn’t”, Hugh protests, rather unconvincing before he deflates and mumbles, “I was not going to say anything” 

He jumps horribly when someone else interrupts him. 

“In addition to good manners”, comes the Doctor’s voice from across the room, “I also have very good ears. And can subsequently hear you all the way from over there.” 

Hugh colours immediately, but it is Dot’s voice, as she and Mac turn so she is looking at them, that makes his face explodes in red. 

“Hugh really!”, she herself is blushing furiously, but she does not let go of Mac as she scolds her sweetheart, “You know better!” 

“Yes Constable”, Mac throws in and winks at him over Dot’s shoulder and Jack cannot help but be impressed with how easily she says her next words, “Shouldn’t you trust your sweetheart to not be so easily seduced, even by someone as dashing as myself?” 

And dear lord she must be well on her way to being drunk, Jack thinks and cannot help but be impressed with the sheer gall she has infused her words with. 

Dot squeaks in outrage and swats Mac’s shoulder while she hisses: “Doctor MacMillan!” before she lends the task of taking the leading role from Mac far more concentration than she had seconds before. 

Maggie is still staring, eyes focused on Mac and Dot. 

Phryne is busy laughing at Hugh and Dot seems to be determined to not look at any of them before her face has stopped burning. 

Jack is the only one that sees Mac catch and hold Maggie’s gaze. She smiles, encouragement and reassurance in her eyes as clear as if she had said it out loud. 

Jack sees how Jane pulls her closer with her hand and whispers something in her ear and the girl leans back into the cushions. And then, suddenly, they are holding hands, no longer hidden by their skirts but on top of the upholstery. 

He watches for a few more seconds as Jane and Maggie bend their heads together and they speak to each to her low enough that none of them can hear it. 

Reassured he looks away to give them their privacy and watches Mac and Dot instead, while keeping an eye on the situation on their chaise. 

Phryne, still laughing, pats Hugh consolingly: “Don’t you worry Hugh” she sooths him, gentle hilarity in her eyes, “You have known Mac for years, haven’t you?” 

And then, there is a shift, barely noticeable, but her voice becomes quieter, perhaps in deference to Mac’s rather stellar hearing, and Jack has to lean in to hear her, his eyes riveted to the dancers as Phryne’s voice becomes just the slightest bit more serious with her next words. 

“Mac is not someone to be wary of, after all” And there is no recrimination in her voice, nothing that would be taken as a chastisement. 

Jack takes his eyes from the dancefloor and watches Hugh and Phryne watch each other, no anger between them, and no guilt. Phryne’s comment has been taken in the sense that it had been given in. 

Hugh looks away from Phryne, towards Dot and Mac, and back at her before he relaxes, a bit of tension leeching from him and he nods once. 

“You are right”, he tells her and Phryne smiles, soft and calm and nods back at him. 

Jack throws a short look towards Jane and Maggie and sees, relieved that they are still locked in a conversation of their own. That they had not heard a word of what has been said. 

He looks back towards the dancefloor just in time to catch the last of an expression from Mac that had very clearly been aimed at Hugh, a head-tilt towards her current dance partner and a mouthed word he cannot catch. 

Hugh however seems to have seen enough because he raises his voice slightly and calls: “Save me the next dance, Dot?”

And Dot, in the lead and not bad at it, as Jack has to concede, spins the two of them into a twirl and beams at Hugh with the full force of her happiness: “Of course Hugh!” 

The Constable colours once more. But this time his lips are smiling and the flush looks more like anticipation than like nausea or embarrassment. 

From beside them Jack sees Phryne turn her head and follows her gaze towards Jane who is pulling at Maggie’s hand with a smile and is gesturing towards the dance floor. 

“One dance?”, she asks with a smile and Maggie, though she looks like there is nothing in the world she would like to do less than this nods reluctantly, but says: 

“Maybe the one after the next?” 

Jane cheers and Jack looks back onto the floor to catch the tail end of Mac and Dot’s last spin. 

The music comes to an end and Hugh jumps up and Mac graciously gets out of his way as she laughingly twirls her hand towards Dot, hugs her and then thanks her for the dance. 

Walking back over to the chaise she falls down next to Phryne and grabs her wine glass: “Enough dancing”, she groans and drinks while she pulls her legs up on the upholstery. 

Hugh and Dot are already dancing, an appropriately slow song playing over the player and they are standing locked in something that is both properly distanced and at the same time horribly intimate. 

Jack shakes his head at them and leaves them to it. 

Phryne is leaning against Mac’s legs as the both of them watch the couple sway. 

“They do make a sweet couple don’t they”, Mac muses, much like Phryne had about her and Dot and Phryne nods, her chin on Mac’s knees. 

“They do indeed”, she murmurs and they are smiling, soft and warm and oh so happy for their friends. 

Jack startles as he feels something press along his legs and he looks down to see Phryne’s legs fold across his lap. 

“And what is this supposed to be once you are done?”, he asks her, strictly forbidding himself to sound as breathless as he feels. 

“I’m getting comfortable Jack”, she tells him with a smile that she directs at the dancing couple, “Does it bother you?” 

“No”, he says, a bit too quick and Mac throws him a knowing grin over Phryne’s shoulder. 

“Leave her be, Inspector”, she tells him as she runs an affectionate hand over Phryne’s hair, “It’s her birthday. She is allowed to act as spoiled as she likes” 

Phryne laughs, silver bells in moonlight, and she tugs at Mac’s arm until the woman groans and shuffles around until she is sitting with her back against the backrest and only one leg pulled up in front of her. 

“Spoiled rotten”, she grumbles as Phryne sinks backwards against her side, her arm thrown across Mac’s leg and her head dropping down onto Mac’s shoulder. 

“And you tell me I’m not supposed to slouch”, comes the commentary from the armchair and Phryne makes a vague gesture of placation towards her daughter. 

“You may slouch as hard as you want on your birthday, dearest”, she tells Jane, “Just don’t let Aunt Prudence catch you at it” 

The girls giggle and Phryne makes a grab for something on the table without moving from her position against Doctor MacMillan’s shoulder. 

Jack sighs but resolves to take a page from Mac’s book: to allow Phryne this one night of being spoiled. So he reaches over and grabs the cigarettes for her. 

In a fit of daring (no more whisky tonight, he promises himself) he grabs the matches too, sticks the cigarette between his lips and carefully lights it before he takes it between his fingers and offers it to Phryne. 

She watches him with half lidded eyes and Mac, Jack realises when his eyes move to glance in her direction, is very consciously looking the other way, starting a conversation with the girls as she refills her wine glass. 

“Thank you”, Phryne murmurs as she takes the pack from him, the burning cigarette in the other hand before she slips it between her lips. 

She breathes in deeply to get the tip glowing and lights the second on the first. Then she reaches over and lets him take it from her. 

Their hands meet and Phryne gives him a smile when she breathes out a cloud of smoke. Jack inhales from his own cigarette and watches Phryne watch him. When she looks away from him it is so she can reach over and give another cigarette to Mac who is still making a point of not looking at them. 

“You really should try the next one”, she is saying to Maggie as she swirls her wine around in her glass, “It’s a very nice song for beginners. And I promise you, all of us are too tipsy to laugh at anyone.” 

Maggie, by now, looks more contemplative than worried and Jack silently congratulates Mac on a job well done. 

Seeing the cigarettes offered to her Mac takes the package and calls: “Want a cigarette, you two?” towards the dancing couple. 

Dot and Hugh shake their heads simultaneously without taken their eyes off each other. 

Mac shrugs and throws the package back on the table. Then she turns Phryne’s face with her fingers and lights her cigarette on the end of her friends’. That done she leans back into the cushions, her arms splayed over the back, with Phryne reclining back against her. 

Jack watches them smoke, the easy way they lean into each other and sinks back into the cushions himself. 

Maggie, it seems has finally found the courage to stand up and ask Jane for the dance she had promised. 

Under nervous giggles they make their way over to the floor and after a few moments in which it seems to Jack as if they are unsure who is supposed to dance which position Jane takes the initiative and choses to lead. 

Their first steps are clumsy and their laughter drifts over to the chaise, mixing with the music and the clapping of Dot’s and Hugh’s heels. 

A pleasant buzz is running in Jack’s blood, his hand splayed across Phryne’s ankles that are still sprawled across his lap, as he watches the couples dance. 

Smiling, Phryne looks over and Jack’s heart forgets it’s rhythm for a second at the look on her face, open and warm and finally at peace. 

She reaches without lifting herself up and, as if it has a mind of it’s own, Jack’s hand moves, lifting and clasping hers in his own. 

“Thank you”, she murmurs, the music nearly enough to overplay it, “Thank you for coming” 

Jack nods: “Any time, Miss Fisher” 

And he means it, he realizes and watches as she butts her head against Mac’s shoulder. 

“You too”, she tells her and Mac blows out a cloud of smoke and settles the arm she had thrown over the backrest over Phryne’s shoulder instead. 

Phryne leans into it and their heads touch for a second, staying connected for several long moments before they both turn them again. 

The skin of Phryne’s hand is smooth, the palm and fingertips worn but soft to the touch. 

He finds himself stroking her fingers, a calm, rhythmic circling of his thumb on the heel of her hand. 

Mac smiles at him, and the normal edge in her smile, the impatient energy she gives out, is absent. She is calm in the same way that Phryne is, content to sink into the music and lean into the smoke that surrounds them. 

She lifts her glass, a silent toast between the two of them and she mouths: ‘Thank you' 

He nods, silent, calm, his fingers still tangled with Phryne’s and mouths back: ‘You too’ 

The music changes and they look back towards the dancers, listening and watching, calm surrounding them in the middle of the noise all around the chaise. 

They sit, Phryne between them, and they watch as Dot and Hugh dance without stopping, song after song after song. 

And they watch as Jane and Maggie change their steps as often as they change the lead between them. 

They sit and they watch and they drink and they smoke. Laughter fills the air whenever music doesn’t and come morning Jack will have forgotten half the conversations they have had. 

It doesn’t matter, he tells himself, his fingers secure in Phryne’s. Tonight nothing matters but their bubble of wine and laughter and dance, safe and close and away from prying eyes. 

For Jack, it feels like home. 

It feels like family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sweats nervously* Sooooo... I am outrageously late to this and I am very very sorry and honestly, this is why I do not do multi-chaptered fics.  
> Anyway, I hope the result did not disappoint and I am very much looking forward to your thoughts on it!  
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Did I just take a swing at the hideous wig they gave Tammy in S2&3? Yes, yes I did.  
> Did I give Mac a perfume smelling of violets bc violets represent sapphic desires and were a popular choice of gift used by lesbians and bisexual women for their girlfriends from the 1910s to the 1950s? Yes, yes I did.  
> Do you want to know how long I spent researching what movie Maggie and Jane could go into? No, you really, really don't.
> 
> Now, the second part is nearly twice this long, atm, and involves tipsy!Jack Robinson, dancing, liberal sarcasm, more sass than anyone needs, discussions of sexuality and prejudice and the impromptu family gathering gaining several participants.


End file.
